


Play Your Cards

by Romiress



Series: More to Being a Father than Having a Kid [13]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Impulse (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Setting, Angst, Blackmail, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Canonical Torture, M/M, POV Bruce Wayne, Polyamory, Slade Wilson is a Good Parent, recovery from torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 63,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: When Lex Luthor says he's going to ruin your life, he means it.The family just hopes they're prepared.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Joseph Wilson, Established Joseph Wilson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Thaddeus Thawne, Slade Wilson/Bruce Wayne/Slade Wilson
Series: More to Being a Father than Having a Kid [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1386880
Comments: 225
Kudos: 307





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to join us over on [discord](https://discord.gg/kYvx6cd) for update notifications, chapter discussion, fanart, and fanfic!

The correct thing to do, based on the situation as it stands, is to leave some of them there. Era should stay behind. There's probably plenty of information on the computers that could be investigated, and Diana can't handle it all on her own. It's entirely possible (although Bruce personally doubts it) that Lex has some of his blackmail material right there in the room with him.

But nothing they do follows proper procedure. Slade speaks quietly to Clark, who moves over and scoops Era up in his arms. The pseudo-Kryptonian is still unconscious, and Bruce desperately wants to believe that in a few hours Era will wake up and be back to normal. He wants him to wake up in his room surrounded by people who are worried about him.

"Bruce," Diana says once Clark has Era. When she looks at him, there's a level of hesitance in it. She clearly isn't sure if she wants to talk with him while Jason's still leaning against him, but there's no other choice. "Go home."

"Luthor—"

"Go home. I'll handle things myself. Take your family, go home."

He wants to at least stay until ARGUS is there, but Diana isn't hearing it. She all but kicks him out of the building, shooing him.

"I'll drop you off and come right back," Clark says. "She won't be alone for long."

He wants to tell Clark to put Era in his room. He wants to. But he can't. Bruce tries not to look directly at Thad when he addresses Clark.

"One of the finished parts of the cave is a secure holding cell. Era should go in there until we can be sure he's no longer under Luthor's control."

"What!" Thad yelps. He's already zipping over to Will, babbling at top speed. "TellhimErahastogo—"

"Thad," Will says, reaching down to press his hand onto Thad's shoulder. It has the desired effect, and Thad stops vibrating in place. "I know it's upsetting. It shouldn't be happening. But Era would be upset if you put yourself at risk by not taking proper precautions, so he needs to be kept securely."

Thad makes a quiet little _hnnnng_ and stops protesting.

"I'll go. Talk to the boys, get them to fly you home... and make them stay there, if you can," Clark says with a sigh. "Jon's supposed to have school."

Easier said than done. They find Clark's boys where they were told to go, standing guard by the sleeping forms of the ARGUS team. They've all been sedated, and Slade confirms what Bruce suspects: it's consistent with Lex's state.

It takes them a half hour to get back to the manor, being carried by Clark's boys. They're dropped off just in front, and Bruce is ready to drop by the time his feet hit the ground. He's _beyond_ exhausted, but despite his desire to sleep he has more important things to focus on.

"Jason," he calls, but Joey's already there, coming out the front door and pulling Jason into his arms, so Bruce backs off.

"I'll watch Era," Slade says. "You and Will handle the boys."

"I'll watch him," Will says, cutting in.

"We'll both watch him," Thad says. "I'm not going anywhere without Era."

Which decides things for them. Thad looks exhausted, so Will goes to grab some extra blankets before Alfred, miracle worker that he is, produces some sleeping bags for them.

Bruce is too worried about Jason to focus. They don't know what Luthor has in mind, but Bruce can't quite convince himself that it isn't going to be related to Jason. If Luthor had every piece of information they did, the stuff with Jason would hurt them the worst. Bruce is struggling to even imagine what would happen if it came out.

But he doesn't have to think about what he's going to do.

"Bruce," Jason says quietly. "Can I stay in your room tonight?"

The question catches him off guard, and Bruce stares at him for a second before realizing he _needs_ to answer. If he doesn't, any hesitation is going to be seen as rejection.

"Of course," Bruce says. He just assumed Jason would want to stay with Joey, but Jason seems desperate for Bruce's presence right then.

He takes a moment to think about it and comes to the most obvious answer why: now that he's thinking about what happened again, having Bruce there is a constant reminder that he's safe. That it's real.

"Might I recommend that everyone sleep in the cave? It's climate controlled, so it will be no more uncomfortable than the house," Alfred says. He looks to be on the verge of yawning, but of course still finds the energy to fetch more blankets and pillows for everyone.

The floor of the cave is a lot less comfortable than their bed, but having everyone around them is nice. They end up in little clusters, with Damian and Slade beside each other while Thad ends up sandwiched between Joey and Will. Bruce drifts off with Alfred beside him and Jason on the other side, effectively in the dead center of all of them.

Bruce sleeps like a rock despite all the stress of the last few hours. When he wakes, it's with Damian in his his arms. Sometime during the night, his youngest has literally crawled under the blankets beside him, and he's dozing quietly. Without the eyepatch he normally wears, Bruce has a clear view of the scar, and resists the urge to run his fingers over it. He does crane his neck up, checking who's still there, and finds most of the boys are. Will and Alfred are gone, which isn't surprising, and when he looks he finds Slade over in the corner of the cave on the computer.

Bruce wiggles his way out of Damian's iron hold and gets up on wobbly legs, heading over to join his husband on the computer.

"Should I assume breakfast is on the way?"

"Closer to lunch," Slade says, quiet enough not to wake the rest. "News is what you expect. Lex didn't leave anything we can use, and he's still out. So are the ARGUS employees he drugged. They're working on a solution."

"Era?"

"Also still unconscious, but it doesn't appear to be the same thing. It's more like he's been... shut down."

Which is a terrifying thought in itself, but the conversation is derailed by the sound of one of the boys—Thad, when Bruce glances over his shoulder—rolling over, colliding with Damian, and somehow managing to stay asleep the whole while.

"I think we have to admit we're out of our depth with Era," Slade continues. "We have no idea what Lex did. We have even less idea how he did it. We're going to need to deal with experts."

"Kandor tried to decommission him," Bruce points out.

"And they're not stupid enough to try that again," Slade grumbles. "If we want Era back, we're going to have to deal with them."

Bruce sighs, reaching up to rub at his face. He doesn't want to. Kandor sounds like an absolute nightmare, and with everything happening with Lex, it's not as if they can just fly off on a week long trip to deal with it.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Slade says, "and no. We're going to invite them _here."_

A diplomatic mission from Kandor to Earth was something that got brought up when Clark first got back, so it's not as if it's completely out of nowhere. But it was discussed as a potential thing in the future, not as something that would be happening so soon.

"That'll take time. What are we going to do until then?"

Slade folds his arms across his chest, spinning his chair a bit more to look at Bruce dead-on as he stares up at him.

"Bruce, I think we both know what has to happen."

He means putting Era back in the tube he was first found in. Bruce doesn't know the mechanics, but he understands the general idea of it: some kind of cryostasis that will keep him from dying while asleep.

"Thad will hate it."

"Thad already hates it. Era tried to kill his dad and now he's stuck unconscious. The sooner we freeze Era, the better. I don't want to have to dose him with red sunlight just to get him hooked up to an IV drip."

Bruce knows it's true. The only option that's really possible, but it hurts just thinking about it.

"We can talk to them over breakfast," Bruce says. "Pitch it and see how they take it."

"It has to happen, Bruce."

"They'll take it easier if it's pitched as an _option,"_ Bruce points out. "...But I think it's time to wake them up."

The two of them work together, waking the pile of sleeping children and herding them upstairs. Will has food already on the table, and Slade, traitor that he is, stays downstairs to watch over Era.

So Bruce chickens out. He doesn't pitch it right then, unwilling to ruin the sleepy-but-happy mood, but instead opts to point out that they're going to have to have a serious family meeting sometime soon.

 _Shower first,_ Joey signs, his eyes half-shut. _I need to wake up._

"We all need to," Bruce agrees. "Everyone finish eating, shower, and we'll meet down in the cave for two."

Jason shoots Bruce a disgusted look.

"...Three," Bruce corrects.

"Better," Jason grumbles under his breath, going back to his eggs.

Bruce isn't looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

Three winds up being closer to three-thirty, which is the point where Joey finally drags himself in. Everyone else is already there, looking various shades of awake. Most have coffee, courtesy of Alfred, which is helping a great deal with the _awake_ part of the equation.

"We need to address the most time sensitive thing first," Bruce says. He wishes he didn't have to. He knows it's going to upset Thad, but it seems cruel to make Will do it, and Slade's already going to have to handle some of the emotional heavy lifting. "Right now, our best case scenario is to reach out to Kandor for help with Era. We simply don't have enough information to safely deal with him, and the possibility that he might still be under Luthor's control is very, very real. Until we can be sure he isn't, he needs to remain unconscious."

"But we can't contact them right away," Thad says, his tone distressed. "We need to wait for Hal to come back."

"The Kryptonian ship that was left here has the capability to return him to cold-freeze," Will says, guessing exactly what Bruce is working towards. "It'll keep his condition from deteriorating until they can arrive."

"But..." Thad says, trailing off. There's nothing more for him to say though. There's no actual argument, nothing that provides a better solution for them to use.

"Sorry, kid," Will says, reaching out to rest a hand on Thad's back. "But we have to think about what's best for Era."

Thad's lip wobbles, but he manages to hold it together, leaning in a bit closer to Will.

"I'll talk to Clark after this and arrange it," Bruce says.

"But I'm coming, right?" Thad says. "I should be there when he... when he goes to sleep."

None of them point out that Era is _already_ asleep, and Bruce certainly isn't going to fight Thad on it.

"Of course. We'll freeze him, have Hal contact Kandor, and hopefully they can come and resolve the situation soon."

"We've got other things to talk about," Slade says. "Lex is the big one, and we can't afford to put it off."

Bruce is confident that Lex's trap hasn't been sprung just yet, but he can't imagine they have much longer.

"There are two possibilities," Slade says. "Either Lex is working with someone who's waiting to hear from him, or he has a simple dead man switch and lack of contact will activate it."

"It's the latter," Will says, and every head turns to stare at him in confusion.

"...You know this how?"

"Because it's Lex Luthor. The man's an egomaniac, and this is his _great big plan._ He's not going to trust someone else not to fuck it up, so it'll be entirely automated by him. It'll have redundant backups, even if we do manage to find his main system. The odds of us managing that in time are low, though."

Bruce agrees, but he does wish Will would be at least a _tiny_ bit less grim with everyone listening.

"We have to just assume it's going to happen," Bruce says. "Lex unfortunately has the lead here. He has the information, he's set it up to be dispersed, and we don't even know where to look."

"I guess he hasn't regained consciousness?" Jason asks.

"There are very early signs the effect might be lessening in the ARGUS employees," Slade says. "Beyond that, we have no idea."

 _That's bad,_ Joey signs. _If he's half as smart as the one from my world, he'll have set it up so he wakes up after the information is already out, preventing it from being extracted from him._

"Could we use J'onn?" Damian suggests. "He could use his powers to find the information we need from Luthor."

"I had the same thought," Slade says. "But it's not a possibility without torching our relationship with ARGUS. J'onn is on the west coast currently, and assuming we did fly him out here in time, we'd have to argue with ARGUS to allow us to do it... or sneak him in."

"J'onn isn't likely to do it without approval," Bruce says. "He prefers to stay on ARGUS's good side, considering his history."

"Crap," Will says. "Alright. Going from the assumption that we can't stop this, what's the next step?"

"Figuring out everything Luthor might have known about and preparing for it," Bruce says. "The problem is that he was so vague it severely limits our options. If we reveal something to mitigate his reveal, it might turn out that what we were thinking it was wasn't even what he had..." Alright, that's confusing, and Bruce stops, taking a moment to recenter.

He doesn't need to, because Alfred takes over. "Any information you reveal might play into his hands if it isn't already something Mr. Luthor knows."

Will scowls, glancing around the room expectantly. "So the question is... is anything we're going to do actually going to help? He has us over the fire. Attempts to minimize the risk is only going to help him. Ignoring him is only going to help him. We're screwed no matter what."

Again, Bruce desperately wishes Will was less grim, but... maybe it's better that way. Maybe they'll appreciate that he isn't sugarcoating it for them.

"I'm going to talk to the League," Bruce says. "They need to be brought up to date on what's happening, and maybe they'll have suggestions. Otherwise... we should probably go about our lives as normal. If we behave strangely, the public is going to notice."

 _I wanted to see if Tanya had time off to come out at some point,_ Joey signs. _Should I put it off?_

"It's not as if Tanya's going to be scared off by whatever comes out," Will says. "Might as well bring her out. We can always cancel if needed."

 _I'll talk to her myself, then,_ Joey signs. _We were already talking about her visiting at some point._

Bruce is surprised to hear that, but he knows he shouldn't be.

"Alright," Bruce says, getting to his feet. "I'm going to speak to the League. If anything comes up, feel free to interrupt."

He isn't so lucky. Bruce goes interrupted as he briefs the members of the League who can make the rather last minute meeting. Hal's out of contact still, and Arthur can't make the meeting time itself, sending someone in his place. Bruce recognizes Jackson Hyde from his time on the Teen Titans, and makes a note to tell Will about it once he's all done.

"Everyone's here," Bruce says, "so I'll apologize for how last minute this was."

A smile flits across Diana's face in response. "A crisis is a crisis. They don't run on a nice schedule for us, unfortunately."

"If only they did," Dinah says with a laugh of her own. "But from what I understand from Diana's report, things appear to have resolved themselves in a mostly pleasant matter? Luthor's being taken back to jail, there are no casualties to speak of..."

"The concern is his threat," Bruce cuts in. "I think it's safe to assume Luthor's threat wasn't a bluff. If Clark doesn't leave with his family in short order, he's going to release information with the stated goal of _destroying_ my family and I."

Roy scoffs at the very idea. "You're already public. Everyone knows who you are and what you do, so sorry if I don't think that sort of thing exists."

"Nothing's going to destroy us, but... there is still information that could pose an issue for us."

Diana's expression goes stern, and she rests her hand on her fist, expression intense. "And the League?"

"No, really just us. I see no reason why anything would blow back on the League."

"Sorry if I'm out of the loop on League secrets, but what kind of stuff are we talking about?" Jackson asks.

Clark makes a small, unhappy noise in the back of his throat. Bruce saves him the trouble.

"The fact that Will isn't Will Wilson, but instead another version of Slade Wilson, for one," he explains. "A fact which we obscured to prevent the public from realizing that _our_ Slade was Deathstroke."

Jackson doesn't look at all surprised. "I knew that," he says after a moment. "Came up once. Didn't think it'd be a big deal, but I guess it'd look bad for the League that one of their members was... well, a criminal, right?"

"Slade Wilson has been formally cleared by the US government," J'onn says. "While there might be outstanding legal issues with foreign countries if that information is revealed, I imagine that the reaction would depend on the public response to that information."

"Bruce, write him a speech in case it does," Diana says. "That's something we can prepare for. Personally, I'm more concerned by the information I _don't_ know."

Bruce knew it was going to come up. There was no way it wouldn't. No way Diana would just sit on the knowledge that there's _some big secret._

"I understand your concerns," Bruce says. "At this moment, I don't think there's anything to gain from sharing the information. It is... extremely sensitive and personal in nature."

"How would the public react?" Dinah asks.

"Hard to say. It would depend on how much evidence Luthor has, and how he presents it to the public. It could go either way, but I don't think it's an unsalvagable situation if it does come out."

"Would this thing be better or worse than people finding out you actually killed the Joker?" Roy asks. Bruce almost laughs, because _why that?_

"The reaction would be worse. If the public found out I'd killed the Joker I'd have people lining up to give me a medal." He's realistic about that. People _hate_ the Joker... just not as much as he did."

"Better or worse than finding out you actually killed the president?"

Mystified, Bruce offers a short "better...?", and Dinah cuts in.

"Why is _that_ your metric? Better than killing the president, worse than killing the Joker?"

"First thing that came to mind," Roy admits.

"Not a very helpful metric," Clark says.

"Do you know?" Diana asks, and even without the physical space to orient them it's very clear she's talking to Clark.

"No. But I have... suspicions I believe would be inappropriate to share."

Bruce is thankful for that. He suspects Clark isn't that far off—he _is_ a reporter—and the last thing he wants is to speculate.

There's a lull, an awkward silence, and when it breaks it's of course Diana doing so.

"You've been with us since the start, Bruce, so I'll put my trust in you that whatever this is, you have good reasons for keeping it quiet. Hopefully Luthor knows even less than we do, and it's just the matters with Slade and Will to deal with."

"Hope so," Jackson says. "It'd make things way easier for us."

"Wouldn't that explain why Black Mask tried to kidnap Will?" Dinah says. "If Luthor wanted his DNA to compare to Slade's to have a more air-tight case."

Bruce actually lets out a sigh of relief at the realization. She's right. It makes perfect sense, and he's _immensely_ thankful for that.

"Hopefully."

"Anything else?" Diana asks, clearly ready to go.

"Has Slade already put in his report on Era's status?"

There's a bit of shuffling as everyone checks, and when Bruce does, he finds the file right where he expected.

"In brief," he explains for those who haven't learned to speed-read, "we're hoping Clark will help us put him into cryo-stasis on the Kryptonian ship after this meeting is over. That will allow his condition to remain stable while we get Hal to contact the Kandorians."

"They've already been asking to visit Earth on a diplomatic mission," Diana says. "That would the perfect pretense. I assume you want him to investigate his condition?"

"Unless you have a lead I haven't heard, Diana, we still have absolutely no idea how Luthor controlled him. He's a significant risk until we know the _how."_

"I'm happy to help," Clark says. "Is Thad going to come along? He probably has a better understanding of the ship's system than I do."

Considering Clark's understanding of the ship is _almost nothing,_ Bruce can't help but agree.

"He's available. He skipped class today."

Jackson clicks his tongue, grinning into the camera. "Give him hell for me, will you?"

"I'll be sure to pass on an appropriate amount of heckling."

"I'll come over once we're done," Clark says. "Meet you out back?"

"I'm calling this finished, then," Diana says. "That said, please keep your availability open. If Luthor's threat goes through, we're going to need an urgent meeting."

Everyone says their goodbyes, and Bruce does as well.

He's hoping they don't have another meeting for at least a few days, but he isn't counting on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce finds Thad first, passing on Jackson's message. Thad makes a face, and then his expression becomes more serious.

"Clark's coming over to take Era, isn't he?"

"He's hoping you'll come along with him," Bruce says. He's not sure Will's going to let Thad go alone, but he personally doesn't have any issue with letting Clark watch Thad. Really, Bruce isn't sure there's any person in the world more qualified to keep an eye on the speedster.

"Okay," Thad says immediately. "I wanted to... to see Era off."

"He'll be just fine," Bruce says with a confidence that he's not sure he should have. "He has a lot of people looking out for him."

"I still want to go."

"I wasn't meaning you couldn't," Bruce clarifies. "But why don't we go find your dad?"

Will's speaking quietly with Joey near the entrance to Joey and Jason's rooms when Bruce finds them.

"Will?" He calls, drawing the other man's attention. "Clark should be downstairs by now. Are you alright with Thad going with him and taking Era?"

He doesn't like the idea of Clark trying to carry Will _and_ Era, and he doubts Clark wants to take his boys with him. Will scowls anyway, but then softens a moment later.

"Let me talk to Thad first," Will says. "Then he can go with Clark."

Will and Thad excuse themselves, and Bruce turns to Joey, face pinching.

"...How's he doing?" There's no need to clarify which _he_ he's talking about.

 _Resting,_ Joey signs. _He was throwing up earlier, and I think we all know he's going to need it._

"We don't know that for sure," Bruce says. "The fact that Luthor had Black Mask try and get a sample of Will's genetic material means he might have been trying to verify they were the same person."

 _But he didn't get it,_ Joey signs. _Which means he has something else._

"It could be a lot of things."

Joey stares at him, and Bruce knows that he's only lying to himself. The dread feels like a rock in his belly, unable to be removed. He can't escape it.

Which is why he knows it's going to be Jason: because that's the worst thing that Luthor could have.

Maybe it's better to expect the worst. That way the worst case scenario has them already prepared for it, and every other scenario is a pleasant surprise by comparison.

 _I'm going to go check on him,_ Joey signs, giving Bruce a quick nod before letting himself back into his bedroom. Bruce opts to head downstairs, finding Slade and Clark chatting by the door. Clark doesn't look up when Bruce approaches, but then he doesn't need to: both of them could no doubt hear him coming down the stairs.

"They should be down soon," Bruce says. "Era?"

"Ready to move when Clark is," Slade says. "He's still confined, but Alfred's watching him."

"You're not worried about him waking up...?" Clark asks, confused by the fact that they're letting an elderly man watch someone who can punch through walls.

"The cell we're using was custom-tailored to contain anything we've encountered so far, using the principles we used to contain Will when he first arrived... with some modifications. The walls can withstand more than five consecutive Kryptonian level punches before structural failure... and after the first, a red sun system should activate, disabling the room's occupant."

Clark whistles, impressed.

"Remind me not to go evil."

"Don't even joke," Slade mutters. "We've got enough to deal with."

"Fair point."

Will and Thad join them before long, with Will handing Thad off to Clark's care with several stern (but unnecessary) warnings.

"Do you need a jacket?" Will asks, fretting over Thad like a mother hen. "It's cold up there."

"We'll be inside," Clark points out.

"Take a jacket anyway."

He won't let them leave until Thad's been bundled up in a winter jacket, and only then do they descend into the basement to retrieve Era. He's in the same place he's been the entire time, sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by what's happening around them. Thad's obviously upset, but Will does a good job calming him down with quiet, reassuring words as Clark picks up Era from the bed.

"We'll see you soon," Clark says. "I'll let you know if anything comes up, or if anything changes, but ARGUS should already know we're coming."

They do. Bruce is confident that even if everything goes exactly according to plan, Will's going to end up standing at the back door waiting for Thad to come back, and Bruce can't even blame him for it. Instead, he opts to be productive, settling in with Will and working on a series of increasingly implausible speeches. There are so many possibilities that he can really outline rough ideas. Slade being revealed to be Deathstroke is one. Will being Slade is another. Then there's a combination, when both details come out. He stares at a blank page that's supposed to be his speech about Jason for a long while before he finally scraps it, deleting the file entirely.

There's nothing he could say. There's no speech he could possibly make that would explain anything. He'll have to deal with it if it happens, because there's no way he can prepare for something so awful.

It's little wonder Jason was sick earlier. Bruce is feeling queasy and it's not even his secret at stake. Or at least not likely. The possibility exists that it _is_ his secret at stake: that Luthor somehow knows about Bruce and Slade and Will.

But the more he thinks about it, the more certain he is that Luthor, even if he knew, wouldn't bring it up. It's a petty thing, something that will cause some people to be irritated and others to be pleased. Some people would probably be _happy_ they're together, and that's the last thing Luthor wants.

And that is, in my ways, the trick: what Luthor knows doesn't matter half as much as what he's willing to share. Secrets he knows which will help Bruce's case won't be included. Secrets which could be turned against Luthor's cause have no place in his plan.

Bruce hopes he can use that against Luthor.

Thad and Clark return almost two hours later. Thad's quiet and withdrawn at first, but warms up after Will gives him a pep-talk about it being for Era's own good.

Will cooks for them, even if he's distracted, and by the time the sun is fully down everyone looks varying levels of exhausted.

"I'm going to bed," Slade announces. "Whatever is going to happen is going to happen no matter what we'd do, and I'd rather the damn thing happen while I'm well rested."

Bruce has to admit he has a point. He just wants it over and done with. He just wants to know, for sure, one way or another what he needs to deal with.

"He's going to stay with us," Slade says. "No reason to pretend like he's not."

"It's your room—"

"And we're inviting you in," Bruce says as firmly as he can manage. "There's no reason to put you in a guest room, not when you've already spent the night with us before without it being an issue."

"That was before we found out we might be blackmailed by my presence in your relationship."

Alfred makes a face. "This isn't a conversation to have in front of everyone else. Might I recommend that you continue it in privacy?"

Will looks away, and Slade slides over, quietly nudging him to get up. Bruce turns his attention to Jason and Joey. He doesn't even have to ask, because Joey answers purely based on his facial expression.

 _We'll be okay,_ he signs. _Try and get some rest, okay?_

Easier said than done, but Bruce says his goodnights anyway, excusing himself back to the bedroom to find Slade and Will already there, right in the midst of a not-quite-argument. Not quite an argument, but certainly _tense._

"We can't keep doing this," Will is saying as Bruce arrives. "Not when it's putting the whole family at risk."

"That's for us to decide," Slade snaps. "We're the one who get to decide if we think you're worth it to us, and you are, or we wouldn't have started this whole thing to begin with."

"Will, please," Bruce says. "You can't have this _It's too much of a risk_ breakdown every single time this comes up." He's tired. Right then isn't the time for it. "Just... can we please go to bed? I just want to sleep with the two of you beside me."

That's all he wants right then. Slade on one side, Will on the other. He wants to feel _surrounded,_ and apparently his exhaustion is clear enough on his face that Will's stubborn streak breaks.

"Alright," he says. "We can come back to it later."

"We can come back to it never," Slade grumbles, peeling his shirt off as Bruce excuses himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth. By the time he gets back to the bed the worst of the tension's died down, and Bruce doesn't waste any time crawling into the center of the bed. Slade automatically pulls the blankets up around them, and Bruce makes a small happy noise as Will throws his arm around him.

"...Sorry I'm being a problem about this," Will mumbles, so quietly that Bruce almost misses him saying it. "I just really don't want to fuck up the relationship you guys have."

"It'd take someone a hell of a lot more malicious than you to do that," Slade grumbles from Bruce's other side, and Bruce lets out a small snort, letting himself relax between the two of them as he drifts off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

As worried Bruce is that he's going to wake up to a nightmare, the following morning is uneventful. He wakes to Will getting out of bed to go make breakfast, watching as Slade reaches up, pulling the other man down for a sloppy kiss before finally sending him off to do his work.

Bruce is too stressed to actually mess around, even if he can tell Slade's hoping for it, so he makes it down to breakfast in a timely manner.

Breakfast isn't ready for him though. Instead, he finds Will putting something that looks absolutely horrifying in bowls.

"Is that... raw meat?" Bruce asks, staring at it in confusion. It's... unpleasant looking, for sure.

"Cat food," Will says. "Dexter saved my life, so I figure I can feed him something half decent. Going to order some more supplies for it... site I found suggested a meat grinder, but that's also intended for someone who can't snap bones easily."

"You're making home-made cat food," Bruce says. "...Really?"

"Why does this even surprise you?" Will asks without looking up. "When I do something, I do it the best. if I'm going to have a cat, I'm going to be the best goddamn cat owner there is."

Damian peeks his head around the corner, eyes narrowing.

"But you're sharing, right?"

"Only enough for one right now," Will says. "Until I get more supplies, it's just Dexter."

Bruce is suddenly very happy for the cats. Having Jade (or _Purrstroke_ as Thad insists on calling her any time Will's out of earshot), will give Thad a distraction he's almost certainly going to need. Having things to _do_ always makes it easier to handle things, and taking care of a kitten will be a good distraction for the whole house.

Bruce desperately wants more to do. But they're in a holding pattern, biding their time as they wait for the other shoe to drop.

It's just after noon when it does. He's in his office, staring at a blank word document, writing a speech that probably isn't going to matter at any point in the future. He's got four news channels arrayed on his other monitor, two from Gotham, one from Metropolis, and one from Star City.

So when the two from Gotham go black, his heart drops.

The office door is open, so Bruce simply bellows as he unmutes one of the streams.

"Slade!"

Somewhere else in the house, he can hear Slade shouting _fuck_ at the top of his lungs. There's no construction crew—there hasn't been since everything happened with Era—so it's just family, but that doesn't make things better.

"Watch it!" Slade yells. "Going to find Jason!"

Bruce's instinct is to go find Jason too, but Slade is right: Bruce needs to know what the message is, even if it's still blank.

Bruce watches with apprehension as the Metropolis stream goes black, followed shortly after by Star City. Whatever Luthor's setup is, it's packing some serious power to hijack broadcasts from coast to coast.

The Gotham stream kicks in first, so Bruce mutes the other one, wondering how many people are watching. Too many, he's sure is the answer, but the math of it... It's early on the west coast. The time isn't ideal for anyone but the east coast. Noon on a Saturday...? Probably the best Luthor could get in his window.

It's not as if it matters. Bruce knows it'll be online, assuming Luthor hasn't _already_ put it up.

Luthor appears on the broadcast. It's clearly not live, since he knows for _sure_ Luthor is in prison and the man in front of him is dressed nicely in a suit, but that doesn't stop Bruce from multi-tasking, sending an urgent _physically check Luthor's location_ to the League's contact in Belle Reve even as he searches for the broadcast online.

He's texting Barbara to trace the source of the broadcast (even though she probably already is) as Luthor begins to speak.

"People of America," the pretentious bastard starts, "I wish the circumstances of this broadcast were better than they are. If you're watching this, it means my plan for a peaceful resolution to the current state of affairs has failed. Most likely I've been captured, although I can't rule out the possibility of my death."

Bruce rolls his eyes, his phone vibrating in his hand as Barbara confirms that she's working on it.

"I'm speaking to you directly because you have been lied to. While I had great hopes for the Justice League, I had concerns about the balance of power on the team. With only two ordinary humans—and only four humans at all—I worried that human interests would fall by the wayside. Despite that, I put my trust in the humans on the team to represent the billions of humans on Earth.

"Unfortunately, it would seem my trust has been mislaid. I've become aware of several alarming facts about the people that citizens of this country are putting their trust in to protect them, and I believe the public has a right to know."

"Just get to it already," Bruce growls at the screen, feeling stupid a moment later.

"I understand that most of the country believes that I'm a criminal, but what I do, I do for humanities sake. I don't expect any of you to take me at my word, and I've provided evidence to back up my claims. Some can be found online once this broadcast is over, while others have been sent to reputable—and unbiased—news sources."

Bruce takes that to mean _not the Daily Planet._

"First, the Gotham Knight—Slade Wilson—is actually the criminal Deathstroke. This is a fact that all members of the League are aware of, as well as the local government. He was allowed to take an under the table deal, 'killing' off his criminal persona in exchange for his silence on a number of matters."

Bruce hadn't given it any thought before, but all of a sudden he realizes that if Luthor brings up just _what_ brought Slade's protection...

"The Court of the Owl's agent was Slade Wilson's daughter, who was conspiring with a branch of the US military to produce superhuman soldiers. The Talons who attacked Gotham were intended for purchase, and the attack on Gotham was both to cement the Court's control, and as a demonstration of the creatures that they'd made."

Bruce hates himself for not having realized this was coming. Of _course_ Luthor would know, because he was involved in the goddamn deal with the court. He provided the microchips that let them control the Talons in the first place.

It also gives him an air of legitimacy, that he's not _solely_ going for Bruce and his family.

"Everything that happened on the Night of the Owls was laced with corruption on all sides. Slade Wilson shouldn't have been allowed to get off scot-free for his crimes, the military should have been exposed for being involved in something as heinous as this, and the DEO making so many under the table deals only shows that they've been corrupt from the outset."

Bruce holds his breath. Let that be the end.

"And that's only the start," Luthor says. Even through the screen the bastard looks smug. "While collecting evidence to prove Slade Wilson's connection to the assassin Deathstroke I found mountains of other secrets and crimes. Atlantis's royalty has neglected to mention to the American government that a man who killed dozens along the west coast years back is actually Aquaman's half-brother, who has never faced justice for what he did. Roy Harper spent years pursuing Justice in Star City, and yet neither he nor Dinah Lance have addressed the fact that Oliver Queen—Green Arrow—was Star City's own home-grown Batman _without_ the dignity of a no-kill rule when he started out. The man qualifies as a serial killer, for that matter."

Bruce can only imagine what's happening with the rest of the League. Luthor's done his homework, and while Bruce knew about Orm, he _didn't_ know about Oliver's history.

"But that isn't the worst of it," Lex says, sitting upright. Bruce offers a silent prayer that he's not about to hear what he's dreading.

"Please," Bruce murmurs, a nearly silent prayer. "Please not that."

"Without a doubt, the worst of them is Jason Todd—the second Batman."

No. No no no.

"I can hear your disbelief. Jason Todd is an _institution._ He's loved in Gotham. The man runs a charity. I've heard it said that every person in Gotham has some sort of story about how he's impacted their life for the better. But the truth is that he does all that so that no one will recognize the truth."

Bruce has to look away. He can't keep looking at Luthor's stupid smug face as he takes a torch to the life Jason's built.

"Jason Todd is a mass murderer. Years before the Night of the Owls, he organized an attack that would have absolutely devastated Gotham City, and only backed out at the last possible minute, _after_ killing innocent people. Jason Todd wasn't _rescued_ by the Arkham Knight, he _was_ the Arkham Knight—a man who killed four innocent people before murdering two criminals, one in front of a _child."_

Bruce is going to be sick.

"He raised a militia, outfitting and training them for the sole purpose of taking over Gotham. He had _tanks_ being shipped to Gotham while everyone in the city was blissfully oblivious. Then he had the gall to pretend to be Gotham's protector, prancing around leaving everyone ignorant to the things he'd done."

Bruce's phone rings and he nearly drops the damn thing in surprise, glancing down to find he recognizes the name.

_Holt._

He picks up immediately, half-listening to Luthor go on a tangent about the _nerve of Jason._

"I'm going to be there in fifteen minutes," Hudson says without preamble. "Is someone with Jason?"

"Slade is."

"The moment the broadcast is over, you need to be. This is a nuclear bomb that just got tossed Jason's way, and while you've got things to worry about, Jason needs to be first priority."

"He is," Bruce says, his mouth dry.

"Good. Tell Slade that if he doesn't kill Lex Luthor first, I'm going to for this shit."

Hudson—normally mild mannered and pleasant—hangs up the phone on him.

"—luck, this all going public will allow these criminals to be appropriately punished, and those who were hurt—by Ocean Master, Deathstroke, Green Arrow, or the Arkham Knight—will finally see justice."

Bruce turns away. Luthor's done talking, and after a brief nod to the camera it cuts off, returning to black.

He needs to find Jason. Everything else can come later.


	5. Chapter 5

There's a spot of blue and red in the corner of Bruce's eye as he crosses the third floor hall towards Jason's room. He turns to find Clark—dressed in his full costume—descending onto the ground just beside what will eventually be the third floor's small pool.

"Bruce," Clark calls. Bruce isn't sure he wants to answer him right then, but he swallows down his misgivings, moving over to open the patio door.

"I need to see to Jason."

"You do," Clark agrees. "I'm going to go guard Luthor. If it was just Jason and Slade I think he'd be alright, but he just made a lot of people very angry. If I'm not there to keep him from—"

"You don't have to justify it," Bruce says. He doesn't care about Luthor right then.

"I just wanted to let you know the boys are going to be keeping an eye on your property. Keeping everyone else out, at least until I get back."

At least there's that. At least he doesn't have to worry about an overly ambitious reporter sneaking through the woods.

"Tell them Hudson Holt's coming," Bruce says. "He needs to be let in." He knows they haven't met the man, so it's important they know. He trusts their judgement otherwise. If Dick or Tim or someone they know shows up, he's sure Jon would let them in without needing to bother Bruce about it. "...You're a good friend, Clark."

"Diana was right," Clark says. "You had a good reason for keeping it a secret. I'll handle things with the League for now, and see if I can coordinate what I can while you're busy."

"Thank you." Bruce doesn't think he can say that enough.

"Go look after your son, Bruce," Clark says, shooing Bruce away before ascending into the sky.

Bruce does. He closes the patio door behind him and heads right into Jason's room. He can hear the noises even before he reaches the bedroom. The quiet noises of distress that aren't quite sobs. The noises of the bed creaking as people move around.

Jason's curled up in a ball, practically in Slade's lap on the bed. Slade's not letting him go anywhere, keeping him from doing something he'll regret later by force if needed. Joey's up near Jason's head, murmuring reassurances that take Bruce a second to recognize the source of. He's got the Kryptonian choker around his neck, which is a damned good idea considering that there's not a chance in hell Jason's coherent enough to watch Joey's hands right then.

"See?" Joey says quietly to Jason, his fingers running through Jason's hair as he does. "There's Bruce. I told you he'd come."

"Sorry I'm late," Bruce blurts. Maybe it's stupid to say, but he hates that he wasn't there from the start. "Clark's boys are going to be watching the house, and Hudson's already on his way."

"You called him?" Slade asks, unsupervised. He seems to be asking just for confirmation.

"He called me."

Bruce has no idea how much Jason—or anyone else—actually saw. Probably too much. Or maybe just enough. Enough to know that the secret's out. Bruce wants to take a look at whatever evidence Luthor's put out, but he knows that comes later.

He has so much to do, but Jason is the most important thing right then.

"Dad," Jason croaks, and when Bruce looks up, Jason's looking right at him.

At _him._

His face is red and streaked with tears, so Bruce doesn't hesitate to close the distance. He makes an attempt—a real, genuine attempt—to scoop Jason up, which fails spectacularly. Jason's the same damn size he is, and Bruce almost falls into Slade when Jason's weight is heavier than he planned.

As serious as the situation is, Jason bursts into laughter, and Bruce feels his heart unclench for the first time since Luthor's stupid face appeared.

"We're going to be just fine," Bruce says, settling for sitting down beside Slade and letting him rest between the two of them. "I know this is traumatizing for you, but we're going to all be okay. I'm going to talk to everyone we need to talk to and get it all sorted out. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to talk to anyone. I'll handle it all."

Jason mumbles something that Bruce takes as _I knew you would,_ and buries his head against Bruce's shoulder. Bruce lets the silence last a moment before it's interrupted by Thad bursting in the door, Jade in his hands.

"I brought a kitten!" He yells, as if a kitten is going to resolve every issue at hand. He doesn't even wait, just zips over and carefully sets Jade in Jason's lap. Jason makes a wheezy little chuckle, reaching up to rub at his eyes before dropping his hand down to keep Jade from toddling off of his lap.

"Thanks Thad."

"It's hard to be upset with a kitten," Thad says, and it's made _very_ clear where Thad got that idea when Damian arrives with Portia in one arm and Titus at his heels.

"I have returned with assistance!" Damian announces, apparently having already been there before Bruce arrived. "Father, you'll be handling this for Jason, yes?"

"And Slade," he says immediately. Everyone's worried about Jason—and for damned good reason—but Slade's probably in worse shape as far as legality goes. Bruce is sure that given time, Jason's issues will even out. Eventually, people will understand the circumstances behind what happened.

And Bruce can't imagine that anyone, knowing what Jason went through, would blame him for what happened.

Slade doesn't have the same excuse.

"You should talk to the lawyers," Slade says, who will take any excuse to avoid even being in the same room as one. "I'm sure they've got a lot to say, and I can stay—" He stops mid-sentence, head lifting as he cocks it, listening to something Bruce can't hear.

"That's Hudson," he says after a moment. "Will's got him, he'll be up in a bit."

Bruce doesn't leave right away. As important—and time sensitive—as everything he needs to do is, right then all he wants to do is stay with Jason.

Hudson and Will arrive shortly, and Alfred shoes Damian and Thad and their small army of animals out of the room. Everyone's already getting ready to give them privacy when Hudson gestures for them to stay.

"This isn't a normal session," Hudson points out. "This isn't really a session at all. I just wanted to be on hand, but it seems like you've got things handled pretty well."

His eyes sweep over the scene, with Jason resting between Bruce and Slade while Joey gently runs his fingers through his boyfriends hair. Bruce supposes it's for the better he no longer has a small army of animals stacked on top of him, but after a moment decides Hudson probably wouldn't mind.

"We have a guest room you can stay in if needed. I haven't looked at the situation outside, but getting in and out might be... problematic for the next while."

"Speaking of which, I'm going to excuse myself and reach out to Master Dick and Master Tim. While I'm sure they're doing alright, I can imagine they might be distressed and hoping we'll be in contact with them." Alfred gives a polite nod and excuses himself, no doubt trying to give them at least some space.

"I should do the same thing," Bruce says. He can't stop himself from reaching down, brushing Jason's hair from his eyes. "I'll take care of it. Don't stress about it. Don't even think about it, right?"

"Easier said than done," Jason mumbles, and Thad zips back in.

"I'll stay with him!" He volunteers, right as Damian jogs in, looking annoyed at how fast Thad is going.

 _"We'll_ stay with him."

"I've got him," Slade says quietly to Bruce as the boys bicker, and Bruce slides out from under Jason, leaving him in the care of Slade and everyone else. He bends down, pressing a kiss to Jason's forehead, and Jason goes red, turning away in embarrassment.

Bruce is just happy the distraction worked. Anything he can do to get Jason's mind off what happened is for the best, no matter what it costs him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna do a shoutout / thank you to [PrimeEmeraldHeiress](https://primeemeraldheiress.tumblr.com/), who's been a great help doing some early beta/idea checking for the flow of Play Your Cards!

Bruce has so much to do that the question isn't _what should he do,_ just _what order should he do things in?_

He weighs his options and by the time he makes it back to his office he's resolved to call his lawyers first.

It's the right choice, a fact that he can tell by his video call being met by several exclamations that sound suspiciously like _thank god._

"Bruce," Adrian says. Adrian Chase is the only member of Bruce's team who's allowed to just call him Bruce, and it's a privilege he abuses relentlessly. "If you'd taken any longer I was going to head to the airport."

"Are you not in the city?"

"Spencer's in charge right now," Adrian says, and the woman in question raises her hand on the opposite side of the split screen as if Bruce didn't know the name, face, and full credentials of every lawyer he works with. "I'm in Hawaii. I've already been on the phone arranging a flight back."

"You—"

"Bruce, if you try and tell me to stay and enjoy my vacation I will toss you out a window. _Everyone_ is coming in, because we've got a half dozen legal cases we're going to be dealing with here. I'm not going to be doing that from Hawaii. I am going to be doing that from our office in Gotham."

Bruce grumbles but doesn't argue.

"The most important thing I can tell you Bruce—and I swear to god this is important—do _not_ do a press conference."

"There are circumstances—"

"You are not doing a press conference."

The majority of Adrian's team is familiar with how they talk, but there's at least a few newer faces who look _very_ alarmed by the fact that Adrian just gave Bruce Wayne—their largest client by a mile—a direct order. It's the sort of thing a lot of people would get booted for, but Bruce _needs_ someone who will call him out, and he's always counted on Adrian to do that.

"Run me through why." He sort of knows. But he wants to hear it, to cement what feels like a very hard decision for him.

"I'm not getting into the rest of the Justice League—they aren't my clients and that's not what I'm here for—but just your family could be in a whole load of trouble. There's no legal documents verifying _anything_ about Slade's situation. He could very easily be on the hook for every single thing he did as Deathstroke, and it is absolutely vitally important you remain quiet. Right now, his best legal defense if it goes to trial is to claim that he isn't Deathstroke, and he's a different person entirely.

"Everyone in the family could be argued to have been aiding wanted criminals, in addition to _numerous_ other crimes. If they wanted to, they could get the whole lot of you for vigilantism. Legally, your bases are _not_ covered."

"Jason?"

"In brief, what are the circumstances that explain what happened?"

"He was tortured by the Joker for years. The men he—" Bruce takes a deep breath. "The men he killed helped the Joker."

"We can work with that," Spencer says. "I'm going to get someone pulling references for children who kill their captors. We can emphasize the fact that he was a minor when the torture began."

Bruce doesn't want to think about it, and he tries to move the conversation along.

"Adrian," he says, taking a second to pull himself together. "What's the worst case scenario we're looking at here."

He's sure he's going to be sick.

"Worst case scenario? Life for every one of you."

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut.

"Bruce, look at me."

He does. He needs to hear whatever Adrian has to say.

"Stop being a pessimist. Worst case scenario isn't happening. If you picked a random law student to handle your case you wouldn't get life. Let's talk about the _most likely_ scenario. The one you should expect."

"...It's better than _life in prison,_ Mr. Wayne," Spencer says, making a face. Bruce leans back in his chair, trying to make himself relax.

"None of you is ever going to see the inside of a jail cell," Adrian says. "Absolutely not going to happen. If I was rating the chances, I'd say the odds are slightly higher that Superman is going to teleport into my office naked."

Bruce makes a face.

"You know what I mean. The point is, it's not happening. You're worrying yourself about the worst case scenario that's almost impossible. No, scratch that. That _is_ impossible. At this point, the only question is whether or not someone's going to try and charge one of you, and the odds of _that_ are low. I can't imagine anyone would be stupid enough."

Bruce feels himself, however slightly, finally start to relax. "Keep talking. I think my... brain needs to hear this."

"6th amendment guarantees your right to a trial of your peers when facing criminal prosecution. You've got the right to a fair trial. Can you imagine jury selection?"

"I'd really rather not," one of the lawyers behind Spencer says, and she rotates in her chair to glare at the man.

"The point is that the Justice League has become, in the three years of its existence, an American institution. You've been operating as Batman for twenty years, and I can't imagine any trial swinging against you... but it doesn't matter, because it won't get that far. How do you find a jury when everyone has some very strong opinions about you? The risks of jury nullification _alone..."_

Bruce is suddenly very aware of how time sensitive everything is, and he gestures for Adrian to get to the point.

"Do not have a press conference. Do not make any statements. We'll put one together that says you are confident that when the truth comes out, you'll all be cleared of all charges. Until then, people can talk to your lawyers, because you're not making any statements under said lawyer's advisement, as a result of the severity of the accusations."

"Alright."

"What you need to do is keep your family inside, away from anyone asking questions, and calm. Let things blow over. Right now, everyone's going to be gossiping, but give it a little bit and things will sort themselves out. Do _not_ respond to someone trying to make you start an argument."

"I'm not an idiot," Bruce grumbles.

"You were about to make a press conference where I'm sure you were going to produce a bunch of evidence your son is innocent to sway the court of public opinion," Adrian says dryly. Bruce can't even argue with him, because he _knows_ he's right.

"I need to speak to the League," Bruce says. "I'll stay in touch."

"I'll send you that statement to proof within the next hour. With your approval, we'll put it out as soon as we can and get ahead of the worst of it."

"Take care."

"Pretty sure I should be telling you that, Bruce," Adrian says. "Get to your meeting with the League, and if any of them need a lawyer... well, we're busy."

He winks and Bruce rolls his eyes before hanging up.

Bruce is just pulling up League comm channels when he catches sight of a flash of green out the window. He gets up, leaning out to find Hal landing in his backyard with five other Lanterns with him. Bruce sighs, leaving his office and heading out onto the balcony to call down to them.

"Hal!"

"Bruce!" He calls back, immediately lifting off and flying up to land on the balcony, the other Lanterns following suit. "I got an urgent alert."

"We had a lot happen," Bruce says. Where does he even start? "Luthor just revealed half the League's secrets."

"Anything big?"

Bruce can't stop himself from looking annoyed, and Hal winces immediately.

"Apparently Oliver killed a significant number of people in Star City before any of us ever met him, something about Arthur's brother, the fact that Slade is Deathstroke..."

"Not a great time, is what I'm getting from this. When did this go down?"

Bruce has to check his watch. "An hour and a half ago."

"But the alert—"

"Was for the fact that Luthor hijacked Era and had full control of him. We managed to stop him and put Era in cryo-stasis, and Luthor's in jail, but the fact is that we're going to need Kandorian help to figure out what Luthor did and how to undo it."

"Going for that diplomatic mission already?"

"That's the idea."

Hal turns back to his companions, giving them a firm nod.

"League business," he says. "I'll get the details and pass the information back to Oa. Sorry for bringing you out here for this, I just wasn't sure how bad it was."

"Please, we're happy to provide assistance," a beaked alien says, lifting off from the ground as the entire group starts to take flight. "Hopefully everything works out for you!" The alien calls to Bruce, waving as he streaks off into the sky.

"...So, League meeting?"

"Should be starting shortly," Bruce says. "You can sit in my office, since it's just going to be a conference call."

Hal's expression is concerned, and Bruce hesitates for a moment before deciding it's just simple _worry._

"We'll be fine," Bruce says. "It'll be a rough few... months. But we're all going to get through this just fine."

"Didn't doubt that for a minute," Hal says, slapping him on the shoulder. "Just wondering how many asses I'm going to have to kick to get there."

Bruce can't—and won't—hide his smile as he leads Hal inside.


	7. Chapter 7

The League's no stranger to remote meetings. With members spread cross country, and with so few capable of fast transport, it's all but inevitable.

So getting into the meeting is easy as can be, with member after member checking in as they arrive.

"Hold on," Roy says as Hal gets himself set up. "That's Slade's chair."

"Slade won't be making it," Bruce explains. "He's... occupied, as you can imagine." Normally it's the two of them, but it isn't the first time just one has spoken for both. "Hal's here anyway, so he might as well use the seat."

Hal's rarely there for regular meetings, and with no on-Earth base to speak of, his presence is unusual, but welcome. Steve, the first one there, greets him and looks genuinely pleased that he's managed to make it, despite the extremely short notice.

Arthur looks irritated as he checks in, and Bruce can see Jackson just behind him in the frame, listening in. Diana's expression is serious, and Clark's clearly checking in via his phone at... wherever he is. All Bruce can see is a very bland metal wall behind him, and he can't decide if it's intentional or not.

Dinah appears on screen with Oliver, and Roy appears a moment later.

J'onn is, for once, the last to arrive.

"Should we address the green elephant in the room?" Arthur says, and Hal makes a small noise of concern before he realizes that Arthur's talking about Oliver.

"We're going to be talking about him," Dinah says. "If it makes you comfortable, we can handle him first." Oliver's in the same class of League membership that Damian or Dick is: technically an associate, but not a true member. While Jackson is clearly being trained to take over for Arthur, Oliver most certainly is not.

"That might be best," Diana says. "Oliver?"

"I've got my lawyers handling it," Oliver says simply. "I'm not a member of the League, so I'm not going to complain if you want Dinah and Roy to distance themselves from me."

"Pointless," Bruce says immediately. "Slade's situation is much worse than yours, and the League isn't going to distance themselves from him."

They haven't said as much, but Bruce has faith in the fact that they won't. Slade's been with them since the beginning. He's been an invaluable member of the team, helping them through crisis after crisis. They know him—maybe not as he was, but as he _is,_ and Bruce will be damned if they're going to try and cut him off for it.

"Personally, I don't mind if Oliver is here," Hal says. "He's Roy and Dinah's family, and I think at this point we can trust that he's not going to repeat what we say back to someone else."

"I agree with Hal," J'onn says. "I suspect strongly that part of Luthor's intention with the release of this information was to cause the League to fall apart. For us to turn on each other for our secrets, ending one of his greater foes by virtue of us tearing each other apart. I have no intention of doing so, and I assume that all parties can justify their decisions in a way that is clear and understandable."

There's a pause, and then Ollie clears his throat.

"Feel like mine's pretty obvious. Hadn't really established the whole _code_ back in those days. I felt pretty strongly that some people were beyond saving, and some crimes were too heinous... but more than that, I didn't have faith that turning someone over to Star City police would do anything other than paint a bigger target on my back. Haven't killed anyone in years, but... well, I had my reasons for not bringing it up."

"Bruce's apparent distaste for killing, for one," Dinah says, and Bruce winces. Is that how he appeared to them? A zealot, refusing to even consider the possibility that life might have to be taken?

"Luthor has misrepresented the situation with Orm," Arthur says. "It's a diplomatic matter, which has far more to do with extradition treaties than actual matters of justice. Orm committed grave crimes, yes, but he's being held in a true prison. I imagine Luthor intended for people to assume that he was walking free in Atlantis, but the truth is that his crimes here were greater than his crimes on land. He will never be free here."

"So it's a diplomatic matter, not a League one," Steve notes. "Realistically, I think the worst cases are going to be on the Gotham end of things."

Bruce knows they're waiting for him to explain, but for a moment he finds himself at a loss for words. Where does he start? Where does it all begin? How can he even _hope_ to explain all the secrets that he's kept, all the things he's hidden?

"Whether Slade is an issue or not is going to depend largely on the official response," Diana says. "If the government—at any level—wants to try and press charges we're going to have to do something about it. If they're going to include charges of vigilantism, that's something we can stand against, but if it's just for the crimes he committed beforehand..." Her expression is pained. "As for Jason, I know enough of his background that I can guess why you didn't share the information. Even so, I wish you'd told someone else on the League so we could have been more prepared."

"He did," a voice says, and Bruce lets out a noise of surprise when he realizes that _Hal_ said it.

"...He did?"

"He did," Roy confirms. "Jason told Hal, me, and Barry when we first were staying at the mansion, before the League even started. That whole wild conspiracy theory about the Arkham Knight planning to destroy Batman and then everyone getting arrested got brought up, and Jason owned up to being the Arkham Knight. If I'm being honest, I didn't actually know all that much about the Arkham Knight—I kind of just figured it was what I heard, about some big bad who was going to attack Gotham but didn't."

Diana can't quite seem to figure out how to react to the new information, and there's another round of silence as everyone tries to process it.

But there's no turning back from having to admit the truth.

"Jason was the Arkham Knight," Bruce confirms. "He did kill those people. But the people he killed were all those who had helped the Joker torture him in the years of his captivity, and he was... not himself."

"What did the lawyers say?" Roy asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"For me to keep my damned mouth shut. They don't think we're in any serious danger of going to jail, but that could change if we put out a statement or anything like that. So I need to... keep my mouth shut and let whatever is going to happen, happen."

He doesn't need to point out to them how painful that is for him. They all know, without question, that it's killing him inside.

"Don't read the news," Clark says quietly. "It isn't good right now."

"Reactionary responses are the first to appear," J'onn says. "Those filled with shock and outrage. In time, the more moderate opinions will prevail, and the extreme reactionaries will fall by the wayside."

"Gotham's filled with people who will back you," Roy points out. "You just have to let them do their work."

"Has anyone actually looked through his evidence yet?" Bruce asks in an attempt to talk about something— _anything_ —else, and from their expressions it's clear they all thought he would have. "I can, then. I just haven't had time."

"If you need to be with your family—"

"I'll have plenty of time to kill. I doubt any of us are going to be going anywhere, and I'm sure..." He flips his screen over to the security they've set up, and of course there's a small army of the press just outside his gate. "I'm sure I'll want distractions. There might be something in Luthor's files we can use to discredit him."

"Did we find out where he was broadcasting from?" Dinah asks. Diana immediately leans forward, pulling out some papers to read from.

"The broadcast was long enough that ARGUS was able to trace it back to the source. Small apartment, paid for in cash, that Luthor had rigged up to broadcast the way he needed. Filled with equipment he'd used, but obviously intended to be a one-note thing. He didn't mind us finding it. Most likely, he intended for us to do so from the start."

A dead end. A lot of nothing.

"What's happening with Luthor himself?" Bruce makes himself ask. He doesn't think it really matters. Luthor's already done his worst: if he had more to share, he'd have included it in the original. Beyond that, Bruce can't imagine that there _is_ much worse. Bringing up tabloid fodder like the fact that he's involved with Will is only going to weaken Luthor's case.

"I'm maybe thirty feet from him," Clark says, looking genuinely irritated by that fact. "He's awake. Passed health checks. All the ARGUS employees he'd sedated are awake now as well, right around the same time. I assume ARGUS is going to handle more or less everything, but for now I want to stay near Luthor. I think the odds are pretty good that someone is going to attempt to get rid of him, and I'd rather that not happen."

Bruce hasn't given it much thought, but Clark's right. It's not as if the members of the Justice League are the only people Luthor's angered with his message. Bruce doubts that was Luthor's plan, but there are no doubt a _lot_ of people for who his death would be a significant advantage.

"...Alright," Diana says, sitting up straight. "What's everyone doing in the next few days. Hal?"

"Heading to meet with Kandorian officials. They've already asked for a diplomatic mission, and welcoming them to Earth will probably be a pleasant distraction. They can also help us out with the whole Era situation. Finding out how Luthor hijacked him seems pretty important."

"Arthur?"

"I'll be dealing with the United States Government to verify with them that Orm has seen justice and is in an appropriate prison. We have no plans to allow extradition, but I am confident we can smooth things out with some time, and the diplomatic channels are already open."

"Clark?"

"Guarding Luthor. Keeping him safe is a priority, even if I'm sure most of us hate him, and right now... I'm not sure if I could trust that a random squad of Belle Reve guards wouldn't be willing to look the other way for a paycheck."

"Bruce?"

"Reading through Luthor's evidence. I'll report if I find anything important, but personally I doubt there's going to be anything earth-shattering. If it was absolutely flawless evidence, he wouldn't have told everyone... he'd have handed it over to the government and let the fact that charges were being pressed do his work for him. Most likely it's largely situational, or things that could be explained away."

"Slade...?"

Bruce answers for him.

"He's going to be staying _inside_ and not going out. We'll stand by and watch how the situation progresses, based on the advice of our lawyer."

"Roy?"

"Sitting tight and keeping watch. Considering, I doubt this is going to affect Central City much."

"Dinah?"

"Keeping Oliver from doing anything stupid."

Oliver makes a face in response, and Dinah grins at him.

"J'onn?"

"I will travel to Belle Reve and take Superman's place as Luthor's guard, allowing him to visit with his family as needed. I would like to give the impression that Superman is always on watch, ensuring Luthor's safety, despite the fact that he requires time away to eat and sleep. I believe that would benefit us, and I am uniquely suited to allow that."

"It's a good plan," Diana confirms. "Steve, what can you tell us about ARGUS's reaction?"

"We're really just in the early states," he confirms. "We're going to be getting statements from the ARGUS agents he attacked. Beyond that... I expect a lot of meetings and bureaucracy in the near future."

"Then I think our meeting is wrapping up," Diana says. "I'll be in contact with everyone, and do what I can to give you some warning on anything that comes up."

The meeting went better than Bruce expected, but there's still plenty to do.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce sees Hal off on his mission before returning to an office, making a pointed show to _not_ open any of the news sites he normally tracks. He keeps all his widgets closed. He doesn't check his email.

He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to see. He can't imagine the things they're writing about and he doesn't want to.

It's painfully easy to find Luthor's cache, and Bruce downloads the whole thing, thumbing through it for any sort of backdoor. There isn't one: either Luthor didn't think that far ahead, or someone else has already stripped the documents down to the actual data.

Bruce shuffles through everyone else's stuff first. The stuff about Orm is solid, hard to deny evidence. There's clear camera footage and plenty of information, and Bruce sets it aside almost immediately. The stuff about Oliver is far more situational. Oliver's owned up to being Star City's mysterious archer, but it wasn't as if he was the only one. Bruce knows the Dark Archer was operating at the same time, and all Oliver _really_ needs to do is fine one or two cases in the pile he has a solid alibi for to give himself a good case.

Bruce stares at the folders and eventually clicks into Slade's.

The evidence is damning. Luthor's gotten his hands on Slade's full military record, including several top secret documents about the experiment performed on him. There's a stack of cases connected to Deathstroke, murders and otherwise, which make use of his unique, superhuman skills. There's a few grainy, partial shots of Deathstroke, confirming his white hair when the mask's damaged.

And there's the records of him being at Blackgate. They're broken up, incomplete at best, and Bruce knows that's because Waller scrubbed them when she drafted him into the Suicide Squad.

But it's hard to deny the evidence. Bruce tries to think about how it would play to the jury. If they were asked, what would they say?

They would say that he's Deathstroke. The evidence is too strong. Too many things line up.

Bruce pinches at the bridge of his nose, makes himself breathe, and reminds himself that this is less important than Jason. Slade's protection is from the government. Whether he's in trouble depends on how well Diana can handle the diplomatic side of things. Evidence isn't going to enter into it.

But internally, he's already working out their worst case scenario. If they had to leave Gotham, where would they go? Themyscira has some significant downsides, but then so does Atlantis. He lets himself run through options as fast as he can, and then pushes them all away.

They're not leaving Gotham. Gotham is their home.

Bruce takes a deep breath and opens Jason's folder.

The order Luthor's laid his files out in is clear enough. The first few documents are police reports, witness statements, and news articles that exist primarily to establish just what the Arkham Knight officially did for those who don't live in Gotham. It's strange for Bruce to read some of them, in part because he's already read them once before. He read them all years ago, back before he knew who the Arkham Knight was. Back when he was just a mysterious new criminal threatening to make trouble in Gotham.

It feels far more gut-wrenching reading witness statements knowing the history behind it.

There's a doctor, two guards, and a custodian credited to the Arkham Knight officially. Luthor speculates about Zsasz and Crocodile, but can't confirm either, largely skipping right over them before getting into the real meat of it: the invasion.

Because there's no calling it anything else. It's an _invasion,_ and Luthor has plenty of evidence of it's existence. There's a list of almost thirty private citizens who have provided their testimony about what was going to happen. Some of them are in jail, having been arrested for their work. Some are still free, and willing to testify for immunity. Their story is consistent enough that Bruce is fairly confident it's true. The timeline lines up.

And it just keeps going. Luthor's pulled shipping manifests, tracking shipments between Gotham and a remote part of Argentina. There's records from the Argentinian police from a raid on an abandoned base there and the things they found. There's orders from a supplier that was building custom _tanks,_ specifically tailored to be able to handle the batmobile.

The more Bruce reads, the more ill he feels. He's thought about it before, of course, but that felt like idle speculation where as this feels like staring down the barrel of a gun, being forced to really _think_ about what almost happened. About what Jason almost did.

It's hard to even imagine the scale. Even with the possibility of a full evacuation (mentioned in several places), there would still have been people left behind. People would still have died. Gotham would have been absolutely devastated.

Bruce makes himself take a deep breath. He needs to... to look at other things. To not think about the disaster that almost happened. To not think about Jason having all that on his conscience.

He turns his attention to what remains of the evidence: Luthor's attempts to link the Arkham Knight and Jason Todd. There's descriptions of the Arkham Knight from members of the militia which are consistent with Jason's appearance. To Bruce's immense relief, the evidence provided is far more circumstantial. There are references to specific scars, but the most obvious of them—the brand—is no longer there.

Bruce tries to put himself into the mindset of someone who _doesn't_ have an inherent bias the way he does, looking over all the evidence again. The information Luthor's brought together absolutely makes the identity of the Arkham Knight a priority. It makes it a real mystery, something pressing and worth thinking about rather than the previous state of affairs where it could be safely ignored without issue.

But it doesn't entirely sell the idea that Jason _is_ the Arkham Knight. Bruce could understand why some might believe it, but it doesn't _confirm_ anything. It's not going to hold up in court for sure. Adrian would tear it to shreds and then slap it into a textbook as an example of an awful case.

Bruce lets himself get complacent. He lets himself go and look, because he wants to know if he's wrong. He _has_ to know if it's just him whose realized that Luthor's case is shaky.

The first article he reads is almost entirely about the League itself, calling for more oversight and government involvement in what amounts to a _rogue special interest group._ The second is focused entirely about Slade, demanding he immediately be brought to justice.

The third is about Jason, and Bruce thinks it isn't as bad as he was expecting until he reaches the comments.

He reads the phrase _the Arkham Knight is as bad as the Joker_ and has to close out the tab. He spends the next thirty minutes locking down their internet access to make absolutely sure Jason isn't going to stumble on anything like that. He can't even imagine how being compared to the _Joker_ would impact Jason. It's almost the worst comparison anyone could make, and even as he tries to remind himself that they don't _know,_ he can't help but feel a stab of genuine anger that people would say something so flippantly.

He's midway through locking the whole goddamn house down when Adrian texts him that the statement is waiting for Bruce in his email. He huffs, ignores the work he was doing, and goes to skim through it, but there's nothing really objectionable: it's bland, if anything.

Bruce calls Adrian to let him know that it's fine, and can't stop himself from asking.

"...Are you sure there's no way we could... could get ahead of this? I can't stand the thought of people thinking this way about Jason."

"I know, Bruce. But you have to be smart about this, and that means not opening your mouth."

Bruce pinches so hard at the bridge of his nose he's likely to bruise. "I know. But we have... I mean, we have _evidence_ —"

"Then save that for the police. I'm going to put out the statement as your lawyer. But you need to hang tight and _not_ do anything else. Do not make statements. Tell the League to not make statements. Don't do anything that could put your family at risk, Bruce."

Bruce makes a strained noise, but finally confirms to Adrian that he isn't going to do anything stupid. Once he's off the phone, he goes back to locking the internet down, doing everything he can to make sure no one's going to stumble onto something they shouldn't... even if it means their internet options are severely limited for the immediate future.

He's just so goddamn tired.


	9. Chapter 9

They don't go out that day. The manor becomes a walled garden, a place of safety protecting them from the outside world. Either no one tries to go online or no one wants to mention it, and Bruce is that much happier for it.

Jason isn't left alone. Someone's always with him, whether Joey or otherwise. They all know he's in a vulnerable position, although after a few hours he's relaxed enough to have a proper session with Hudson, who leaves not long after with a promise to return as needed.

Both Tim and Dick want to come over, but Slade discourages them, wary of either drawing the attention of the press, who are desperate for a statement beyond the canned one Adrian put out earlier. They want to know what everyone's opinion is, and the same is true elsewhere. Diana checks in close to dinner to let Bruce know they're being buried in requests for a statement, and ends up relaying the message to Adrian, who whips up a similar canned statement for the League to use.

The majority of their plans are put off. There's simply no room to do much of anything. No room to do anything but try desperately to distract themselves from the reality of what's happening beyond the grounds.

The Kents visit for dinner. Martha does what she can to be reassuring, patting Slade on the arm and telling him that she doesn't believe all the nasty things being said about her. Slade's smile is strained, but he eats the lasagna she's made anyway.

They're on their way back to the house when Jason makes a proposal.

"Maybe we should go on vacation," he says. "Just... get away from Gotham for a bit."

"No where has security good enough," Will points out. But that isn't the _real_ issue, and Bruce knows that Jason needs to hear it, even if it'll hurt.

"It would look... very incriminating if we left the area," Bruce forces himself to say. "We're best to stay put. We're safe here, and this will all blow over."

But it's looking less and less likely. Bruce gets his news in bits and pieces from those allowed to contact them, second hand and otherwise offhand mentions from people talking about other things. The ARGUS team Luthor disabled are doing just fine, with no apparent consequences. Their story is clear enough, and lines up with what they knew. He hears from Barbara that the police are looking into things, but that she hasn't heard anything more.

He hears from Lois—who is _absolutely furious_ —about out of state news crews harassing anyone they think might have information, including several people related to those Deathstroke's killed, looking for statements on the matter.

Bruce is emotionally wrung out by the time he announces he's going to bed. It's not even ten, but the idea of being awake for even a minute longer is unthinkable.

 _I'll keep an eye on Jason,_ Joey signs to him discretely as they all head up the stairs.

"I need to check on the cat," Will grumbles. "I'll meet you in the room."

Slade's expression is worried as he gets ready for bed, and before Will can get back Slade reaches up, cupping Bruce's face in his hands.

"I'm worried about Jason."

"We all are," Bruce says immediately, because it's true. Slade's technically more at risk right then, but Jason's the one who's most likely to suffer _mentally_ from it.

"I mean right now, Bruce. I'm going to... I think I'm going to camp out just in the hall, so I can hear if anything is wrong. So I can catch him if he leaves his room. Even with Joey there... Joey's going to fall asleep."

Bruce hesitates, because he feels like he should be the one doing it, but it's pointless to try and think that way. Jason is both of theirs, and Slade's the one who can go through the whole night without flagging. Once upon a time Bruce could too, but he's now doubtful he'd last the whole boring night without nodding off.

"Alright," Bruce says, leaning up to kiss Slade. "But if... just don't hesitate to get me, alright?"

Slade's head turns slightly, and the movement is followed shortly after by Will's arrival to the bedroom. He's got some scratches on his flesh and blood arm, but otherwise looks healthy enough.

"I'm going to stake out Jason's room, just in case," Slade says, filling him in. "You're on Bruce duty."

"Bruce duty?!" Bruce sputters, and Will lets out a laugh, closing the distance between them and threading an arm around Bruce's waist.

"Bruce duty. Keeping you from worrying yourself to death."

Bruce can't decide if they've talked about it, or if they both just have the same opinions about his tendency to worry. He huffs, and Will distracts him from his annoyance by leaning in, dragging him into a too-soft, too _un-Will_ kiss.

Bruce returns it anyway. He needs the gentleness, and he desperately needs the distraction as Will gestures to the bed and then goes to get ready himself.

Bruce spends that night playing little spoon to Will, the other man's arms wrapped tight around his waist. It makes it easier for him to process the day, and harder for him to get caught in those little ruts. Any time he gets too tense, Will (who never seem to sleep) leans in and trails kisses down the back of Bruce's neck, drawing him out of it.

Bruce doesn't remember falling asleep. One minute he's worrying about how sustainable Clark's Luthor-themed vigil actually is, and the next he's waking up.

Slade's beside him—definitely Slade, not Will—and out cold. It takes Bruce a few seconds to understand they must have swapped places at some point in the night, and when he drags himself out of bed, Slade stays where he is, sleeping through most of the morning.

The second day is almost as bad as the first. There's still the intense sense that they're trapped inside a bubble of their own making, hearing tidbits of information and gossip from those they talk to. Jason is doing alright, but it's clear to everyone that it's a temporary thing: eventually he's going to hear what the world thinks and they all know the damage it's going to do. All they can do is put it off as long as they can and hope that the tide changes by then.

Because the general sentiment isn't good. There are still those who stand by them, even in the face of the accusations, and those who point out that Luthor isn't an actual source. But there's also a great deal of evidence that's hard to deny, and in the face of the _fact_ that the Bats lied to them, much of Gotham is (even if Bruce hates to admit it), right to be skeptical.

Clark visits them while J'onn guards Luthor, checking in to make sure everything's alright. No one's make an actually serious attempt to trespass, a fact no doubt helped by the fact that Clark's boys keep checking in, in addition to the Wayne-Wilson's reputation for having _excessive_ personal security.

"What about school?" Thad asks over dinner. He's spent almost the whole day playing with Jade, but Bruce suspects he's feeling bored of the seclusion.

"You can have some time off," Will says without even discussing it. "I'm not sending you to class like this."

"I'll request that Master Timothy send Thad's homework over," Alfred says. "I've already had to quite firmly discourage him from coming to visit. The less attention his family faces, the better."

"Dick had people at his gym bothering him for a statement," Slade admits. "Had to tell them to get out."

"School would probably have people waiting, wouldn't it?" Thad wonders, and Damian nods in agreement automatically.

"That's why you're staying in," Will confirms. "Until this blows over, you should stay inside."

Not long after seven, Bruce gets a call from the Mayor, giving them some advanced warning: there's going to be a press conference the following morning about the case.

"Hosted by who?"

"District attorney's office," Andrew says, and Will takes a deep breath.

That's going to be them announcing whether or not they're pressing charges. Bruce has Adrian's firm reassurances that they won't, but that doesn't mean it's the truth. It's hard to guess how the current's running from the surface.

"Bruce?"

He snaps out of the train of thought, turning his focus back to the conversation. "Yes?"

"I just want to make it clear that I stand by you guys. No matter what happened before... the Night of the Owls should have ended with me and a lot of other people dead, and the only reason it didn't is because you stood up and made a stand. No matter how this plays out, I'll have your back as much as I can."

So they have at least one ally, and Bruce lets out a deep exhale.

"...Thanks, Andrew," he says. "Hopefully it's not going to blow back on you next election."

"If I get voted out because I stood with Batman, so be it. I'll take that loss without complaint."

Bruce just hopes he doesn't have to. He likes Andrew, and he doesn't want to see the man's promising political career go down in flames because he picked the wrong side.


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce has trouble sleeping that night, but it's not as if that's a new thing. When he goes to get up, Slade—who's left the guarding to Will that night—doesn't let him, pulling him back down into the bed.

"Try and sleep," he says, pressing a kiss to the back of Bruce's neck.

"Can't."

"You still need to rest, even if you can't sleep," he says. "If I thought it'd help, I've got other ways I could exhaust you."

Bruce can't stop himself from smiling, despite the seriousness of everything that's happened, and he turns in bed, allowing himself a few gentle kisses with Slade.

"...I love you," he says quietly. "I'm sorry this is happening."

"Please," Slade says flatly, "do you think I'm worried? I have absolute confidence we're going to get through this just fine, no matter how it looks now."

It's with Slade's reassurances that he manages to nod off to sleep, dozing against his husband's side.

He sleeps in so badly he nearly misses the press conference. The only reason he catches it at all is because Slade nudges him awake, sending him packing into the office in his sleeping pants as he finds the right channel, still yawning.

The conference is almost ready to start, with Gotham's district attorney apparently making quiet conversation with his staff before starting. Bruce is honestly happy he's missed the talking heads that no doubt preceded the event, and he makes a note to tune out the moment it's done.

But his timing is good, because not thirty seconds after he's gotten everything turned on the DA approaches the podium, clearing his throat and drawing everyone's attention.

"Thank you all for coming," the district attorney says. They're young, yet one of the dozens of up-and-coming young professionals who were rapidly catapulted into a position they weren't prepared for when their predecessor was arrested for being connected to the Court of Owls, but they've proved themselves over and over again, doing a far better job then the person they replaced ever did. "And that you all came on such short notice."

Bruce actually lets out a little wheeze at that. At the district attorney acting like everyone is being _polite_ by taking time out of their day to listen, as if the city wasn't tearing itself apart waiting for an official statement.

"While it isn't our policy to make public statements on cases like this, the large focus on this particular case means that we believe it's in the public's interest to make an official statement now, rather than later. After several internal discussions, the Gotham City district attorney's office would like to clarify that while we have received _numerous_ reports about the allegations made by one Lex Luthor towards multiple individuals, most notably Jason Wilson-Wayne, accusations are not enough to bring charges. While a large amount of evidence—" The man manages to keep himself from making airquotes at the word _evidence,_ but his disdain is audible anyway. "—has been presented to the public, the overwhelming majority of it is purely circumstantial in nature, and what remains has no clear chain of custody, and it's authenticity cannot be verified. At the current moment, my office has zero actionable evidence that Mr. Wilson-Wayne is connected to the Arkham Knight in any way, and thus we are declining to charge him at this time."

There is an immediate reaction from the crowd, and Bruce isn't entirely sure why. The moment he said _evidence_ the way he did, Bruce is convinced everyone should have known the way it was going.

"While the court of public opinion holds no such rules, Gotham's court system continues to hold itself to the standards expected of us. Should this change, and evidence be made available, we will revisit our decision, but as things currently stand there is no admissible evidence against Mr. Wilson-Wayne which would allow us to bring charges against him."

Bruce allows himself to breathe again. They're not charging him. Jason's free to walk around (even if Bruce wouldn't let him right then).

The press conference moves to questions, and to Bruce's distinct lack of surprise the first question is about Slade, specifically why he wasn't brought up at all.

"Mr. Wilson-Wa—" He falters, seeming to realize that he can't just call Slade _Mr. Wilson-Wayne,_ and then restarts. "Even if one took all of Lex Luthor's evidence at face value, Slade Wilson-Wayne would have no outstanding charges in Gotham City. Any charges against him would inevitably be handled at the federal level, so I'll ask you to direct any questions to the U.S. Department of Justice."

Bruce can't decide if that's good or bad, and eventually decides _good_ is the answer. The charges were always going to be handled federally for Slade, but the fact that they're not _also_ facing charges in Gotham is a relief.

There's more questions, including a _very_ pointed one about the mayors involvement (or lack there of, as the DA clarifies), but for the most part the worst is already over. The moment the DA steps back, Bruce turns the stream off, letting himself sag against his desk.

That's one thing done.

Bruce can't wait to tell them, so he heads right down to the kitchen. Everyone's there when he arrives, and the room goes quiet as he enters. Bruce walks right over, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Jason's head and giving them all a grin.

"No charges."

Thad makes an excited noise, and he isn't the only one: everyone's clearly happy by the news except for, strangely enough, Jason himself. He's quiet, withdrawn, and as everyone else excitement fades, finally speaks up.

"Is that... right?"

"...Is _what_ right?" Slade asks.

"Is..." Jason gestures around him. "This. Everything they said I did, I did. I'm getting off without any consequences for what I did because we have good lawyers. Because we're popular."

Bruce doesn't even get a chance to respond.

"No," Alfred says firmly. "I'm afraid I must say you are incorrect."

Alfred's the last person anyone expects to disagree, and they turn almost as one to look at him in surprise.

"Master Jason, you are going to go free because you have spent almost a decade doing the right thing. You have slaved and sweated and worked to protect Gotham and the people who live here. You will walk free because the people of Gotham owe you a great debt, and the fact that they've been temporarily distracted from that fact by Luthor's plot doesn't change things. While the situation might seem dire currently, I do not doubt even for a moment that before long, people will recognize the difference you have made in people's lives." Alfred reaches out, resting his hands on Jason's shoulders as he looks him straight in the eye. "I do not doubt it for a moment."

Jason's cried a lot the last few days, but right then it's a very different sort of sob he makes as he reaches up, grabbing Alfred's arm and giving it a squeeze.

"Thanks Al," he says quietly. "It's just— I know we're going to get through this. It's just going to take a bit. I just need to... to adjust."

"Have faith, Master Jason. Have faith that the people of Gotham will not abandon you after everything you have done for them."

Alfred pulls Jason into a hug, and Bruce feels a surge of pride watching the two of them.

The rest of the day is far less grim than the day before. Even if it's _just_ the fact that there aren't going to be any charges, the air feels like it's cleared. They're now willing to talk about what's happening, even if only quietly, speculating about what may or may not be happening.

"Dad?" Thad calls as Bruce talks with Will, and Will automatically turns, calling out to let Thad find him. Thad arrives in a blur, stopping short just in front of Will. "Can Bart come over?"

Technically speaking, Bruce couldn't stop Bart from coming over if he tried. Bart moves fast enough that their security can't keep up, and while the system can track whether everyone else is coming or going, Bart's so fast that it simply registers he's crossing the barrier, but not the direction.

The speed also means Bart appears as a blur on the cameras, if he appears at all; there's no way to run anything like facial recognition.

Will glances to Bruce for confirmation, who offers a quick nod in response, and Will turns his attention back to Thad.

"Sure," he says. "I assume you've been talking and he knows not to say anything too upsetting about the situation?"

Thad nods enthusiastically.

"I wanted to show him Jade," he says. "Bart says his uncle Ollie's spent—"

"Hold on," Bruce says, barely holding back a laugh. "His _uncle_ Ollie?"

Thad makes a face.

"He said he's too young to be a grandpa, so Bart's supposed to call him uncle."

"That sounds like Oliver," Bruce says, still grinning as he turns to Will. "Do you want me to call Roy to confirm...?"

"I can," Will says. He seems like he's been getting along just fine with Roy, but that doesn't stop Bruce from being a bit wary just the same. How can he not be, with everything happening?

Thad zips off to make sure Jade is ready for her big debut, and Will excuses himself to go call Roy and check in. Bruce allows himself a few minutes in the office, just to check what the reaction to the press conference is, and while he wouldn't describe it as _positive,_ it isn't negative either: the reaction seems deeply muddled, with some claiming that the DA was in the right while others cry it's still a miscarriage of justice.

But it's not as bad as it was, and Bruce wants to celebrate that, even if just for a moment.


	11. Chapter 11

Bart's polite, but he's also almost _painfully_ hyperactive. Once upon a time Bruce would have described Thad as easily excitable, but side by side with his brother (twin?), Thad's downright relaxed by comparison.

Bart loves the kitten. Bart also loves Portia and Titus as well, and even makes an attempt to love Dexter, who ends up sitting on Will's back, his claws dug in to keep him from falling in what must be an undeniably uncomfortable position for everyone involved. Dexter won't get off, and in the end Will's forced to carry the cat around the upper levels like a human taxi, with Dexter hissing at anyone who gets too close.

"How the hell does Roy keep up with that kid?" Will grumbles to himself once Bart's out of earshot. "I thought Thad moved around too much..."

"I like him," Jason observes. "He's a good kid."

"I'm not saying he isn't," Will points out. "I'm just saying the kid must be leaving trails of fire behind him when he runs."

Bruce spends a good portion of the day checking in with everyone. Clark's still standing guard. Oliver has more lawyers than he has shoes. There's some annoyed muttering from Steve Trevor about how much he hates 'this kind of politics', but for the most part things are just fine with ARGUS.

Tim and Dick are both firm in the fact that Bruce has no more than two or three days before they come to visit. Both are eager to check in, but Bruce is wary of either drawing attention to themselves. He checks in with Lucius, who confirms what he suspected: Wayne Enterprise has been buried in requests for comment, but hasn't actually seen much change.

"We're an integral part of Gotham's economy," Lucius points out during the call. "In the short term, they can't stop working with us any more than they could choose to stop eating."

The same isn't true for Wayne Outreach, though, as Lucius mentions later in the call.

"I'm not sure if Michael's told Jason about it or not," he admits with an absolutely pained tone. "Someone smashed the front window, and Michael decided to send everyone home until things have cooled down. I think at this point most people know you aren't running Wayne Enterprises day to day, but Jason was—and is—still very involved with Outreach."

Bruce can't decide if Jason knows or not, but decides that if he doesn't, it's better not to mention it to him at all. He has enough stress, and right then there's nothing he can do about Wayne Outreach.

They eat early that day while Will quietly complains about the fact that the Kitchen's finishing touches have been put off. They all agree that having the house half-finished isn't ideal, but they also all agree that letting a bunch of construction crews (even carefully vetted ones) in the house is a bad idea. Bart stays for dinner, but ends up going home not long after.

"I have to go back to school tomorrow," he says, obviously annoyed by the idea. "Mom said I could skip just today, since I was coming out to visit Thad."

"I get to be off school as long as I want," Thad says, although he doesn't look nearly as excited by the idea as Bart does. "But I kind of wish I could go back."

Bruce feels a pang of sympathy for Thad, whose life has been disrupted so severely, but there's nothing that can be done. It's a risk going outside, and the less they're all exposed to the reactionary vitriol, the better.

They're wrapping up and getting ready to go to bed when the manor's security lets them know that someone's coming in along the path. It's not an uncommon thing, but the fact that the warning isn't immediately followed by the appearance of Jon or one of the other boys _is._

It takes almost two minutes—by which point Bruce has drifted down to the ground floor and is staring out the back window—before Lois appears, jogging towards the house.

She's carrying a newspaper in hand, and Bruce can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing.

She slides to a stop, holding the newspaper out for him, and has to take a second to catch her breath as she does. Bruce reaches out, taking the paper from her, and is immediately slapped in the face by the cover.

It's the Gotham City Gazette, the cities largest newspaper by a mile. Of all of them, it has the largest circulation. Of all of them, it's the only one sold coast to coast.

And right then the entire front page, save for the tiny header at the top, is taken up by a single story: him.

 _The Price Bruce Wayne Pays for Justice in Gotham,_ the headline reads. Just below is a file photo of him as a child with his parents.

"...Lois?" Bruce says, because it's the only thing right then that he can even think to say. How is he supposed to respond to that? How is he supposed to _get it?_

"I know you're trying to keep yourself out of it to stop yourself from going insane reading all the comments and speculation and rumors, but you need to read this one. It's tomorrow morning's paper, but it was just sent to the Planet, and it's going up on their website at midnight. More importantly, they've reached out to other local newspapers to ask them to republish the story for them, which is... almost unprecedented. That almost never happens."

"Is the Planet going to?"

"Not as a front page story, but yeah, we're going to do it. It's a good piece. It's... very different."

Bruce grunts, staring down at the photo. A happy, smiling Bruce Wayne. A boy who hadn't yet lost everything. Who hadn't yet needed to put his life back together.

He's not sure if he wants to read it.

"I think you should go get Slade, and... I don't know. Whoever you think might want to hear."

"Is it going to upset Jason, if he hears it?"

Lois doesn't answer right away, taking a moment to consider the question before shaking his head.

"Not any more than anything right now," she says. "I think... I think he should hear it."

They go inside, and Bruce lays the newspaper on the table. He lets Lois wait, going upstairs to make sure no one's in bed. No one is, although they've all clearly been working their way towards it, and Joey has to pull on a housecoat to come downstairs. Thad has Jade with him, curled up in his arms and clearly tired out as they make their way to the kitchen, the only area on the ground floor finished enough for any sort of family meeting.

"So why are we here?" Jason asks, looking deeply wary.

"This," Bruce says, reaching down to tap the newspaper. Alfred reaches out, picking it up, and skims the front page before leafing through the rest just to see how large it is.

"...Quite impressive," he says quietly. "But this isn't your piece, is it Mrs. Lane?"

"I can't take credit for it. This is entirely something they did on their own, and Perry has me writing unrelated human interest pieces right now anyway. I'm not allowed near anything League related."

"For good reason," Alfred says. "Shall I read this, then? I assume that was why you brought it over."

"Read away," Lois says. Most of the family's already settled in around the table, and none of them voice any objection to Alfred reading, who clears his throat, flips back to the first page, and starts to read.

"This is not an ordinary editorial, but considering the circumstances of this story being published I think many would agree that we are not living in ordinary times. As I write this, every piece of media from coast to coast is investigating and seeking to answer questions relating to the allegations against various members of the Justice League. In Star City, those are related to the vigilante Green Arrow. Farther south, Aquaman. But here in Gotham, the only subjects that anyone are interested in discussing currently are the facts about Slade and Jason Wilson-Wayne. While we have countless articles about them ready, and some even published in this issue, this article is not about them: this article is about Bruce Wayne, and about the things he has lost to give Gotham justice."

Alfred pauses, taking a moment to swallow down a lump in his throat, before going back to reading.

"I don't think that anyone would argue the fact that the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne were the most significant in Gotham's history. Before their deaths, Gotham was simply a large city like any other. After their deaths, the city changed, and not for the better. To this day, their murders remain unsolved, a constant blight on the city's justice system. Whatever faith the citizens of Gotham might have had in the police died with the Waynes that night in Park Row, because if Gotham could not find justice for them, it seemed impossible that it might find justice for anyone else. Many of Gotham's wealthiest citizens left the area in the aftermath of the Waynes murders, citing security concerns. Many businesses withdrew. Park Row became Crime Alley. Gotham began its long spiral downward. It has been more than four decades since the Waynes died, and yet any citizen of Gotham who is old enough to have lived in Gotham back then knows without question what they were doing that night.

"But this article is not about them."

Bruce is already having a difficult time not letting it get to him. It's hard, even years later, to think about what happened. Hearing how it affected the city hurts in a very different way than it normally does, and as Alfred flips to the next page and continues reading, Bruce opts to sit down.

"In the years since then, Gotham has fallen, but it has also risen. Bruce Wayne took up the Mantle of Batman and ensured that the city would finally have the justice he'd been denied. He has risked his life countless times, built a family, found love and been married. I do not believe, even for a second, that any person on Earth has given more to Gotham than Bruce Wayne-Wilson has. Gotham is what it is because of the work Bruce Wayne-Wilson has done, both as himself and as Batman."

Bruce is happy he isn't the one reading, because there are tears in his eyes. He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to, and he suddenly, in a very visceral way, understands what Jason must have felt as he looked out on the photos of the vigil that was held for him when he was hurt.

"Just over a year ago, this world had its first contact with life from another reality. A parallel world, both like our own and very different. While the Justice League has been understandably tight lipped about those who came through, we still know the identities of many: Of the hero Joseph Wilson, who assisted during the breakout at New Arkham. Of Tanya Spears, who helped identify the Kryptonian invasion before it happened, allowing us to be prepared. Of William Wilson, who played a key part in stopping that Invasion from happening.

"Of the last, very little has been said. In truth, their name has been an open secret, kept quiet out of respect for their privacy. Even if no formal agreement was made, the information was still suppressed for reasons that will soon become clear. The fourth extra-dimensional visitor is Thomas Wayne, and this article is about them."

Even before Alfred finishes reading, Bruce knows what's coming. There's only one thing the article could be about.

"The facts are simple. Thomas Wayne came from another reality, one where he didn't perish. Rumor indicates that in his world, it was Bruce Wayne himself who died, leaving his mourning parents behind. Thomas Wayne became unmoored, hopping from dimension to dimension, until he arrived here. Here, he found family: the son he'd lost and the people he loved. He met his grandchildren. He found a home. And yet, not even two weeks after his arrival, Thomas Wayne found himself on his way to prison. He's been there ever since, sitting among the criminals at Blackgate, separated from the family he found."

More than anything, Bruce is shocked by how _long_ it is. He can't imagine what strings the writer must have pulled to be allowed to be so _verbose_ about the whole matter.

"The details of exactly what happened are unclear. What we know is this: during the breakout at New Arkham, prisoners were released from their cells. Batman and his companions moved in to assist, helping the staff still trapped inside. While inside, Thomas Wayne was confronted by Harley Quinn, and in the confrontation, shot her dead. In the immediate aftermath, Thomas Wayne plead guilty, and was sentenced to ten years in prison.

"I will not pretend to be a neutral party in this matter. If I had wanted to, I'd have allowed one of the many investigative journalists who work for this paper to write this editorial. I am writing this from a place of bias, but in doing so represent the hundreds, if not thousands of people in Gotham who have the same bias.

"More than ten years ago Harley Quinn was involved in a hostage situation with several fatalities. While Batman managed to save the bulk of those she had taken hostage, by the time he'd been alerted three were already dead. One of those was my wife.

"Many talk about the virtues of forgiveness, but that was not something I could ever entertain. For me, my only focus was ensuring that Harley Quinn never had a chance to hurt anyone else again. I attended her trial. I did what I could to educate the public. When I heard what had happened—that she had finally died—I wept with relief.

"At the time, I trusted that the system was working, but the knowledge that Thomas Wayne was behind bars for stopping Harley Quinn at last weighed on me. It has continued to weigh on me, and now, as I sit here writing this piece, I wonder if my decision to remain silent was a mistake.

"If Thomas Wayne had gone to trial, he would not have spent a day behind bars. I struggle to imagine that even a single person in Gotham would have voted to convict him. I cannot imagine a set of circumstances which would have lead to Gotham turning their backs on him.

"In all my years with the Gazette, I have never felt as passionately about an issue as I do about this one. Thomas Wayne should not be in jail. Thomas Wayne killed Harley Quinn while trying to save lives. He is a hero, and he should be treated like one. He should be allowed to be with his family.

"Bruce Wayne-Wilson has lost so much. He's given everything for this city. And the fact that the closest thing he'll ever get to his father is rotting in prison because of Harley Quinn destroys me in a way I struggle to describe. So this is my attempt to correct that, to right that wrong: I call upon the Governor of New Jersey to see justice done. Let Thomas Wayne go home. Let him be with his family. And, at last, let those who had their lives destroyed by Harley Quinn finally see justice."

There's silence in the room as Alfred finishes the last few lines, looking up.

"It's signed," he notes, "which is quite unusual. It's written by the editor-in-chief of the paper."

Bruce sinks back into his seat, trying to process everything he's just heard. He feels _moved,_ which feels strange and almost hypocritical considering how much of the article was about him. He feels... broken up inside, and when Slade settles in beside him, wrapping his arms around Bruce and pulling him closer, Bruce feels a flood of relief.

"...Does this mean Thomas is going to come live with us again?" Damian asks, glancing around the room.

"That's hard to say," Alfred says, taking a moment to consider. "I suppose it would depend on the response to the article. The governor certainly isn't going to make any chances just because of this, but if more people support the cause, the odds are high that he'll be released."

"This was their worst case scenario," Bruce says quietly. "One of the reasons they didn't want it to go to trial was because they knew... they knew something like this would happen. But it's complicated, because... because being a vigilante is still illegal, so..."

"So the court would have been weighing how much people support the family compared to how much they respect the law of the land. It's little wonder they pushed for a plea deal," Lois says.

"Maybe I shouldn't have let him," Bruce says quietly. "If I had stood up for him..."

"He had his own issues to deal with," Jason says. "If this does... if this does turn things over, then we'll welcome him back. He seems more calm than he did when he first arrived. He just needed time."

Lois leaves not long after with a promise to keep them up to date, and Bruce finds himself staring off into space as she does.

Will slides up behind him, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Nothing about this is going to happen fast," he says. "Just give yourself time to process it, alright?"

Bruce wishes it was that easy.


	12. Chapter 12

There's less need for Jason to be watched every waking minute, so for the first time since Luthor's message went out, Bruce ends up in bed between Slade and Will. It's a pleasant—and desperately needed—reprieve from everything that just happened, and ending up sandwiched between them is just what he needs.

Or at least it is until Will has to ruin the moment.

"...You haven't told Thomas about us yet, have you?"

Bruce grumbles as gently as he can manage. He doesn't want to think about Thomas while burying his face in Slade's chest.

"No," he says. "Everything we say to him is effectively public. Until he's out, saying anything is off the table."

"Do I want to guess how he's going to take it?"

"Also no," Bruce grumbles, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Right then he's having difficulty imagining Thomas taking it all that well. Him being married to Slade was one thing, and this is something else entirely. "We're going to have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"More like burn that bridge when we come to it," Slade says. "The guy told Jason I was a _pirate."_

"You were a pirate in his dimension, Slade," Bruce points out. "I suspect the piracy is going to bother him less then... the... _this_ of this."

"Eloquent," Will chips in. "The _this of this."_

"You know what I mean," Bruce says, elbowing Will in the side. "The... three of us."

"Plus the fact that Will's supposed to be my brother."

Bruce cringes so hard he feels the muscles in his fake ache. It's not like he'd _forgotten,_ but it's also not something he'd really given much thought too, either.

"Does knowing you two are alternate unvierse versions of each other make it better or worse?" Bruce asks, weighing his options.

"Better," Slade says, right as Will says "Worse".

The two exchange annoyed glances at each other, and then Slade huffs.

"Spoken like an only child."

And _that_ makes Bruce sit bolt upright.

"Hold on," he says desperately. "Are you _not_ an only child?!"

It's literally the first time it's come up. Slade doesn't—pretty much _ever_ —talk about his history. He's very much a _live in the moment_ sort of guy, and at his age Bruce has simply always assumed his family were all gone.

"No," Slade says casually. "I've got a half-brother."

Bruce is going to die. He has no idea how to handle the tactical nuke of information that was just dropped in his lap. "You have a _half-brother_ and you never thought to mention this?"

"We don't talk," Slade points out. "For all I know he's dead. We were never close, he never really liked me, and when I joined the military I never looked back."

For Bruce, whose only family for the vast majority of his life was Alfred, the idea of having family and just _not acknowledging them_ is absurd.

"Weird," Will mutters. "Considering we're supposed to literally be parallel versions of each other, we've got completely different histories."

"Ended up the same place," Slade points out. Bruce's head is still spinning from the realization that he has a brother-in-law out there somewhere. "Just different starting points."

"I didn't have a brother, for one."

"That you know of."

"It literally defies belief that my trash heap of a father managed to have sex with one person. There's absolutely no way he managed to sleep with _two_ people. Plus, place I was born only had a hundred people in it. I think I'd have noticed another kid my age with questionable parentage."

"Only a hund— Where the hell are you _from?"_

"Booneville."

Bruce gives Will his most confused look as he sinks down into the bed, because he's never even _heard_ of Booneville.

"...Kentucky," Will clarifies. "Do I want to know where you're from?"

"Oklahoma," Slade says. "We're not even from the same _state?"_ There's a brief pause, and then Slade's face lights up. _"You have an accent."_

"I _had_ an accent."

"I bet it leaks out sometimes."

"I haven't stepped foot in Kentucky in forty years. It's dead."

"Sorry, can we rewind?" Bruce interrupts. "You have a brother?"

"Wade," Slade says. "Dad knocked up his mom."

"Wade—" Bruce actually has to take a moment just to _laugh._ "Are you telling me that the fact that crappy naming is actually a Wilson family trait? He named his kids Slade and Wade?"

"Wade Wilson," Will muses. "Wade, Will, and Slade—"

"Wade _LaFarge,"_ Slade corrects. "Everyone knew he was my dads, but he took his mom's name."

Bruce is already making plans to look him up when Slade reaches over, tapping Bruce on the top of the head. "I know what you're thinking," he says firmly. "Leave it be. I don't care about them. I shouldn't have even mentioned them."

"But—"

"No buts. The door's closed, Bruce."

Bruce wants to argue. He really does. But it's Slade's choice, and even if he thinks Slade should look into it, he can't _make_ him do it either. And he shouldn't.

"We should sleep," Slade adds, bending down to press a kiss to the side of his head, throwing an arm over Bruce. "Try not to think too hard about the accent Will should absolutely have."

On the other side of the bed, Will huffs in annoyance, but eventually rolls over, trapping Bruce under his other arm.

The next morning, Bruce risks checking the reaction to the news article and finds himself pleasantly surprised. It's not _universal_ agreement, but the general sentiment seems to have changed a great deal overnight. Many who were anti-League have started adding stipulations to their distaste. Many single out Clark in particular, but there's also plenty he finds that single out him. Most people still seem hostile towards Slade, but that's hardly surprising, and considering how bad the sentiment was in the immediate aftermath, it's a serious step up from how things were.

Bruce just hopes it's enough.

He tries not to get too invested in reading the comments (especially when so many of them are actively hostile towards his family), but he does anyway. It's a never ending spiral downward that's only interrupted by Adrian calling him.

"Bruce," he starts, "hopefully I didn't wake you?"

"I was going through internet comments," he grumbles. "Probably better you called."

"No kidding. I assume you saw the article? The office spent half the morning debating if you were behind it or not."

"Hopefully you were on team _not._ I didn't know about it until it was already going to print. I don't think I've met the man at all, unless he went to one of the charity galas I used to attend."

"You've met everyone in Gotham," Adrian points out. "I'd be genuinely shocked if you hadn't met him before. Either way, getting right to the point: We've been talking with your PR team and figuring out—"

"My what?"

"We've been talking to _Wayne Enterprises_ PR team," Adrian corrects, "and we came to a mutual conclusion that you have to make a statement."

"You said no press conferences," Bruce says, leaning forward in his seat.

"This isn't a press conference, Bruce," Adrian says. "When they found out you lied, the public reacted badly. They felt hurt. Now the worst of that hurt is past, and they're willing to start listening to reason. To... moderates who are pointing out things like the Thomas stuff, or the fact that Lex Luthor is not a reliable source of information."

"Just tell me what you want me to do," Bruce says, because he knows that Adrian's got something in mind.

"Alright, here's what I need you to do..."

Two hours later, Bruce breezes into Wayne Enterprise home office unbothered. There's no camera crews around, having slipped out the back, but he's sure people have noticed his presence just the same. It's the first time he's stepped foot in the office since everything happened, and it's a genuine relief to see that everything is still running the way it should. Lucius meets him near the door, giving him a firm handshake and a relieved look of his own.

"I was surprised to hear you could come out, but I'm certainly not going to turn you down. We had a meeting about the current state of affairs scheduled for this afternoon, but I asked everyone to come in early to accommodate."

"You didn't have to," Bruce says, wincing at the idea of everyone rearranging their schedules for him. "I know you've been managing just fine without me."

"You're still a part of the company, Bruce."

Bruce is pleased to see that Michael's at the meeting. He's effectively acting head of Wayne Outreach, and the subject of him being _actual_ head of Wayne Outreach gets broached during the meeting with obvious hesitation.

"That hasn't changed," Bruce says. "Regardless of what happens with us, things need to continue as normal here. Michael's been doing the work, and that means he should take the place as Wayne Outreach's CEO."

"Are we still getting your son-in-law?" The head of marketing asks. "That was supposed to be happening, wasn't it?"

"Maybe give it a bit," Bruce says with a wince. "I believe he's still interested, it's just... a busy time."

"Understandable," Lucius confirms.

"If it's an issue—" Bruce hesitates, taking a moment to compose himself. "I understand if the draw of having a Wayne-Wilson among the staff is no longer a draw."

"We're _Wayne Enterprises,"_ the head of accounting chimes in. "We've got jobs because you put your faith in us, and we're certainly not going to abandon you just because of some bad press. They'll come around."

The rest of the meeting goes more or less as Bruce expects. They get some work done, things are set in order, and as they're wrapping up Lucius pulls him aside.

"There's a small crowd outside. If you'd like, I can smuggle you out the back..."

"No," Bruce says immediately. "This is fine. I planned to be accosted by the press."

Lucius raises an eyebrow, and then simply shakes his head.

"I should have known," he mutters. "You always have a plan."

Bruce does have a plan, and he puts it into action as he leaves Wayne Enterprises. The press is there, and he's sure the photos of him leaving the building are going to be the front page of a lot of newspapers that evening. He's careful not to look overly surprised as he steps into the crowd, and he waves the security guards back as they move to intercept.

"Mr. Wayne-Wilson!" A reporter calls, and suddenly Bruce has a half dozen microphones in his face. "So far you've yet to give a statement on the allegations against you and your family. Care to comment?"

The statement is carefully prepared with Adrian's oversight, but he does what he can to make it sound entirely off the cuff.

"I'm afraid that I can't," Bruce says, and then goes on to make what is undeniably a statement anyway. "The charges against my family are very serious, and the fact is that no matter how the public feels about things, vigilantism is still illegal. On my lawyers very firm advice, I'm not allowed to make any comments on anything related to the allegations."

Bruce hopes the not-statement is going to have the desired effect. People are expecting him to weigh in, but just like Adrian said, the average person doesn't realize that his hands are tied. Bruce is just hoping that what he's just said will be enough to calm those claiming that the League's silence on the matter is _suspicious._

In the immediate aftermath, looking back on what happens next, Bruce has very little explanation. The best way he can justify it to himself is by claiming that somewhere between the first question and the second his brain simply turned off, because there's no other explanation for what happens next.

"Mr. Wayne-Wilson!" Another calls, the microphones never letting up. "Is it true that Will Wilson is actually Slade Wilson, rather than his brother?"

"Uhh," Bruce says, because every brain-cell he has seems to have spontaneously died at the mention of Slade and Will in the same sentence. "Yes?"

To say the least, it isn't his finest moment.


	13. Chapter 13

To Bruce's immense regret, he's yet to figure out teleportation, which means he has to make the walk of shame back into the house in full view of the entire family. By the time he parks the car they're all waiting for him, and almost universally have their arms folded across their chests, looking at him with disapproving stares.

Of course, Bruce is fairly sure that Thad and Damian are only doing it because they think it's funny to mimic Will and Slade, but it is what it is.

"Uhh, yes," are Slade's first words to him once he's inside, sliding his shoes off by the door. "All that talk about keeping our mouths shut and not giving the game away, and the first time someone asks you _uhh, yes_ at them."

"It was an accident."

"We figured that out," Will says with a snort.

"Personally, I think we should all be thankful that Master Bruce was not asked if he was in a relationship with the two of you," Alfred adds. "I can only imagine what he would have said in that case."

"I prefer not to think about it," Bruce mutters, his face going red. He wants to say that there's no way he'd have said anything of the sort, but then he _also_ wants to say that there's no way he'd have confirmed that Will was a Slade.

And yet it still happened.

"I... should call Adrian," Bruce mutters. "I ignored his calls twice already, and he's probably going to take a strip off me."

Adrian does. He doesn't hesitate to run down the massive list of issues Bruce has just dug up, and it's only at the very end that he attempts to read the situation more charitably.

"Maybe being spontaneous will win out," he mutters under his breath. "Maybe they'll think that no one stupid enough to volunteer that kind of information could _possibly_ be up to no good."

"One can hope," Bruce mumbles. "I need to check in with everyone else, if you'll excuse me...?"

Checking in with everyone else doesn't take long. Nothing's really changed as far as he can tell, although Clark seems _very_ agitated when he calls, even if he dismisses Bruce's worries for the moment.

"I'll talk to you about it later," he says. "It isn't time sensitive. Or at the least it isn't immediate."

Which means it _is_ time sensitive, they just have a great deal of time.

There's still no message from Hal, but that isn't surprising. It hasn't even been a week, and even if the Kandorians immediately confirmed they wanted to come, Hal would likely stay around to transport them back to Earth. It would take time for them to pick people and arrange everything, and Bruce resolves himself not to think too much about it until Hal's been gone a week without word.

When he checks online, the reaction to his not-interview is split. Plenty of people are correctly pointing out that it's all but a confirmation of Luthor's allegations, or at least how they relate to Slade. Half the reason Will stopped being Slade was specifically to avoid people making the connection, and that realization makes Bruce ask over dinner.

"People know you're a Slade now," Bruce points out as Will drops plates onto the table, the food on them looking nothing short of gourmet. "Do you want to be just called Slade again...?"

"One, that would be confusing," Will points out, "and two, Will's fine. It's my name now, and it's not like I have any particular attachment to the name Slade."

Bruce can't imagine _not_ being Bruce. He can't imagine just changing his name and being someone else, but he supposes that's just one of the many differences between him and Will. He's connected to his identity in a way that Will is most definitely not. It connects back to his family, but it also just as much connects back to his history. Bruce cares about those things, and Will (and Slade, for that matter) does not.

"You could be Will Slade Wilson," Slade points out, and Joey makes a disgusted expression at the very idea.

 _There are more than five names, you know,_ he signs. _You could invest in some variety. This is why neither of you is allowed to name anything._

The conversation moves on, and Bruce is just happy that no one seems actually genuinely angry about what happened.

That night also marks an unexpected first, when Slade approaches Bruce as he's getting ready to bed.

"Will and I were thinking about taking advantage of the training mats we've got set up down in the cave," he says. "Haven't had much time to work out lately."

Bruce pauses for a moment, then squints at Slade. "...Exercising, or _exercising?"_

Slade grins at him. "Why not both?" He replies immediately, giving a quick wave of his hand. "Wasn't sure if you'd be interested. You could watch. Hell, you could certainly join in..." Slade reaches out, his hand trailing down Bruce's side, and Bruce takes a quick mental inventory before shaking his head. He leans up, pressing a kiss to Slade's cheek, and then lets himself rest for a moment before answering.

"I'd love to watch you two go at it sometime, but I think I should probably get some sleep. Rain-check?"

"Rain-check," Slade confirms, getting ready to go... but not before dragging Bruce into a deep and _very_ involved kiss.

"Don't let the kids catch you."

"Tested the cave's lockdown protocols while you were gone," Slade says with a wink, and then excuses himself.

It's late—and absolutely pitch black outside—when Bruce is briefly woken by the two of them returning to bed, crawling in on either side of them. Will's hair is still damp, no doubt from showering, and Bruce is just awake enough to roll to the side, letting Slade take the coveted center position.

"Have fun?" He mumbles sleepily.

"Not as much fun as we'd have had with you," Slade says. Bruce swears he can hear Will already snoring on the far side of the bed and has to wonder just what the hell the two of them got up to that left him so tired out.

He gets his answer the following morning. Slade and Will are _both_ littered with bruises. They look like they've gone through a meat grinder, and Bruce's noise of surprise if loud enough to wake Will, who cracks an eye open to squint at him.

"What?"

"Will, you have a _black eye!"_

"It'll heal. You should have seen me last night."

Bruce is _very_ happy he didn't. The two of them look awful, and that's _after_ several hours of healing.

"Don't let the boys see you," Bruce mutters. "I don't want to know what Joey and Jason would say, and Thad..." Thad does _not_ need to see Will looking like that. "Just stay here, alright?"

"If you insist," Will grumbles, stretching out before flopping back onto his pillow, content to stay in bed as ordered.


	14. Chapter 14

It's almost inevitable that someone ends up finding out, but Bruce is expecting one or two people, not the whole family. He's in the middle of checking the news—definitely less terrible than it was before, even _with_ his Will-related flub—when Will knocks on the door, leaning in.

There's almost no sign of the mess he was the night before (or even that morning), but his expression looks pained as he cocks his head.

"You busy?"

"Not at the moment," Bruce says, closing out the window and turning his chair to face Will. "What did you have in mind?"

"I need you to explain to Thad why I've got bruises."

Bruce is happy he wasn't drinking anything, because he chokes immediately.

"You want me to _what?"_

"Did what I could to hide them, but Thad still saw some on my arms. He got worried and went to Joey, who went to Jason, who told him that he should talk to me, and then he talked to me, so I talked to Thad..."

Bruce buries his face in his hands and lets out a noise of sheer frustration. "And you want me to do the talking."

"Seems like you'd do a much better job of it than I would, and Slade flat out refused. Thad's up in his room."

Bruce ponders refusing. Right then it seems like a great idea, because the situation is not _in any way_ his fault. But the alternative is _Will_ trying to do it, and... well, he's not sure he even wants to think about it.

Which gives him a dawning realization he wishes he didn't have.

"Has Thad had... _the talk?"_

"Thad barely knows what sex is," Will says. "Pretty sure the Kryptonians gave him the nuts and bolts, but no, he didn't get _the talk."_ Will rolls his eyes as he mirrors Bruce's emphasis.

"Then he needs... that."

"Has Damian?"

"Damian has most certainly been sat down and had this all discussed to him."

"Even the _why does dad have bruises on his arm_ talk?"

"That was implied," Bruce grumbles. "Hold on."

Bruce leaves the office, and Will trails just behind him, apparently curious. Most likely he wants to watch, but Bruce has other plans. He doesn't go upstairs to Thad's room. Instead, he wanders through the house until he finds Alfred, who's in the midst of restocking the pantry.

"Alfred," Bruce says, sure that the older man recognizes the note of desperation in his voice. "Thad's asking why Will has bruises."

Alfred gives him a level stare, and Bruce holds his gaze for several long moments before Alfred finally cracks, heaving a sigh as he finishes up what he was doing.

"I suppose if I must," he says. 

"Hold on," Will says, glancing between the two of them. "You're making _Alfred_ do it?"

"Master Bruce has never managed to successfully give _anyone_ a lecture on sexual education," Alfred says, throwing Bruce under the bus. "He tried with Master Dick, but his attempt ended quite unfortunately and I was forced to step in."

Bruce's face is good and red and he knows it.

"You do a better job," he points out. "I can't trust Slade with it. He'd probably start with sex techniques."

"Most likely," Will says.

"If you'll excuse me," Alfred says, shooing the two of them out of the way as he heads upstairs.

Bruce is about to follow when his phone rings, and he sighs, turning away as Will goes after Alfred (probably to spectate rather than actually help) to answer the phone.

"I wasn't planning to tell them that he's Slade," are Bruce's first words to Diana as he heads for his office. "It just slipped out."

"I'm not calling about that," Diana says, her voice sounding strained. "Vandar Adg slipped out earlier today."

Bruce stops moving, standing on the stairs as he takes a second to process it. When he has, he reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Any injuries?"

"When I say slipped out, I meant it. We didn't even realize he was gone for hours."

Fantastic. It's the absolute last thing he needs right then.

"I know this is the last thing you needed to hear," Diana says, reading his mind. "But I didn't feel right keeping this from you, considering. So far he hasn't done anything, and he isn't considered a criminal, but I think we should be on the lookout for him."

"Most likely he took advantage of the fact that everyone's busy right now. He knows we don't have the manpower to go hunting for him while all of this is happening."

"He's right. Unless he does something that requires immediate intervention, he's going to have weeks head start." He can't imagine things being resolved any quicker than that. Their hands are good and tied. "I'll let everyone on my end know through the usual channels. Have you told Clark yet?"

"I let him know just a few minutes ago. He just traded off with J'onn, and he should be on his way back to the house."

"Thanks for letting us know," Bruce says. "Hopefully everything goes alright there."

He lets everyone know via the usual channels, and isn't surprised when Jason practically kicks his door in a few minutes later.

"Vandar's _gone?"_

"He took advantage of how busy we are and slipped out," Bruce says. "Metropolis police will have his information by now, but it's not as if we can put out a bulletin. He hasn't done anything."

Jason takes a deep breath, and Bruce reaches out, taking his son's hand.

"It's out of our hands," he says simply. "But what matters is that you've given him the opportunity to be better. You did the right thing, no matter what happens."

He dreads the worst case scenario: that Vandar Adg becomes an enemy. That he hurts people, and that Jason blames himself for it. It's the last thing Bruce wants, and when Jason doesn't immediately respond, Bruce pulls him into a hug.

"...Why is everything going so badly?"

Bruce reaches up, running his fingers through Jason's hair, and tries to help him settle down.

"I know it seems like that," he says quietly, "but the possibility was always there that they'd find out. We're going to get through this, everything will go back to normal, and then you'll be safe. Once they know... once they know you don't have anything to worry about."

Jason can't be blackmailed once the truth is out. All they have to do is outlast it, and Bruce has faith they'll pull through.

That faith he has is badly shaken that night at dinner. They're midway through eating when Bruce's phone goes off for a text. He ignores it, and a few seconds later it _bings_ again.

And then again.

And then Joey's goes off.

Bruce answers his ringing phone, getting to his feet and trying not to look as distressed as he feels.

"What's happening?" Bruce asks. He hasn't even looked at who's calling, but the voice is immediately recognizable as Dick.

"Vicki Vale just announced they're running an interview tomorrow about the situation that's going to, in her words, _change everything."_

"Do we have any more details then that...?" That could be damn near anything.

"That's it," Dick says, confirming his worst fears. "You're the one who's the most likely to get information out of her."

"I'll call."

"What's going on?" Damian asks. He's still sitting, but only barely. Slade and Will are wearing matching expressions of distaste, and Bruce knows that's because they've both overheard his phone conversation.

"Thanks Dick," Bruce says quickly. "I'll let you know what I hear."

The moment he's off the phone, the questions start coming, but Bruce holds up a hand, pausing them for a moment as he tries to recover.

"Vicki Vale just announced they're running an interview tomorrow that will 'change everything', in her own words. No, we don't know what it's about. I'm going to try and find out."

But that's easier said than done.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains sexual content.

The news studio Vicki works at gives him bounces him through several people before he ends up speaking to someone who has actual control... who proceeds to immediately decline to comment.

"Sorry, Mr. Wayne," the man says. "We're not sharing any information until the interview airs."

"For the sake of my sanity, I really need to know what I should be expecting."

"I'm afraid I can't say anything that wasn't already said."

Bruce grumbles, but several more attempts gets him nothing. He ends up abandoning the attempt entirely in favor of digging through his phone for Vicki's old personal number. It's a dead end, but that doesn't stop him from pinging Barbara to see what she can dig up, and he's in the middle of figuring out where the best place to find her might be when Slade stops by the office.

"Let me guess," he says casually. "She's not saying anything?"

"I haven't even gotten a hold of her," Bruce complains. "The station wasn't giving me anything, and I don't have her personal number anymore. I've asked Barba—"

Bruce is interrupted by Slade lightly covering his mouth with one hand, and Bruce grumbles into it as Slade shushes him.

"You're working yourself up," he says. "This could be nothing. This could be about Luthor, or about the Court of Owls, or half a dozen other things. Lets not make this a crisis until we _know_ it's a crisis."

He lifts his hand away, and Bruce doesn't hesitate to point out the flaw in his thinking.

"Except if it _is_ about you or Jason, I want to be prepared."

"You need to take a deep breath, Bruce. Nothing you can do is going to change anything. Vale's probably already at home for the night. Tomorrow morning you can go to the studio and talk to her there, but if you kick her door in, it's going to look bad."

Bruce wants to argue. He really does. But the fact is that Slade is right: if he comes on too strong, it'll just make them look suspicious.

"You're stressing about this more than Jason is. He's worried, but he's not _this_ level of worried."

"It... makes me feel better to be doing something," Bruce says quietly.

Slade leans down, pressing a feather-light kiss to Bruce's forehead, and then rests his hands on Bruce's shoulders for a moment before speaking.

"I know," he finally says. "Come upstairs? There's a surprise waiting."

Bruce hesitates. His gut instinct—his very first thought—is that he doesn't want what Slade's implying. He knows it's going to be sex, and right then...

But the more he thinks about it, the more his opinion changes. Maybe it's what he needs. If nothing else, he likes the relaxation it implies, and he has a vague hope that he might actually get some sleep if he does.

"...Alright," he says quietly.

Slade trails kisses down the side of Bruce's neck and then reaches down, taking Bruce's hand to help pull him up.

Will's sprawled out on the bed waiting for them when they arrive, and he looks, in a word, smug. Bruce immediately can tell the two have been _plotting,_ but he supposes it isn't necessarily a bad thing. Really, it's good they're getting along... even if it is at his expense.

"Sit," Will says, pushing himself upright. He doesn't waste any time, immediately reaching up to start pulling his shirt off, and Slade hurries to close the door behind them. "Why aren't you sitting?"

Bruce hasn't yet sat because his brain is still trying to catch up, but Will isn't giving him any time to process, so he sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Should I... take my shirt off?"

"That's for me to do," Slade says, reaching down to do just that. He lets his fingers ghost across Bruce's hip and then gets to work unbuttoning Bruce's top. Bruce is having a hard time focusing on himself when Will's just _getting undressed_ like it's the most casual thing in the world. He can't help but feel let down when Will stops at his shirt, leaving his pants on and seemingly ignored.

"...Feels like you've been conspiring against me," Bruce mumbles as his own shirt comes off. Slade's still dressed, and Bruce can't decide how he feels about that right then. Really, he's having a hard time deciding anything: every brain cell he has is currently occupied with the revelation that Will is even more attractive than Bruce remembers.

Or maybe it just feels that way because this time, Will is his.

Or _theirs_ is probably more accurate. It's impossible to miss Slade's presence as he leans in, nipping at Bruce's neck.

'No marks," Bruce reminds them. "If I'm trying to be formal, I don't want to have to explain a hickey."

"Especially not since you're liable to answer _who gave you that_ with _uhhhh my lovers,"_ Will says, and Bruce pulls himself together enough to glare at Will.

Will responds to the glare by falling to his knees between Bruce's legs, and whatever chance Bruce had of managing a coherent thought dies instantly.

Will reaches up, unbuttoning Bruce's pants and pulling his fly down. Slade slips onto the bed, taking a position just behind Bruce so that when he leans back, his back bumps against Slade's chest, letting Slade wrap his arms around him.

"We were conspiring against you," Slade says. "What do you think we spent all last night doing?"

"Fucking each other into the floor?" Bruce mumbles. He's having a hard time focusing on what Slade is saying as Will leans forward, his hot breath ghosting across Bruce's underwear. 

"I taught Will here the joy of having a cock in your mouth. Taught him how to do it just right... and thankfully he's a good student. Really quick learner."

Slade reaches around Bruce, reaching out to run his fingers through Will's hair. Will wrinkles his nose, glowering up at Slade, but the perspective of it—of watching the gesture almost from a first person perspective—means that whatever hesitance Bruce might have had goes flying out the window, his cock twitching in his underwear at the sight.

"I think he likes the attention," Slade says, and Bruce can't even tell who he's talking about. Will? Himself? It doesn't matter, because Will leans forward, pressing his lips to the side of Bruce's cock through his underwear, and Bruce makes a noise that is _absolutely_ not a coherent word.

"He looks nice like that, doesn't he?" Slade whispers in his ear, earning himself a glare from Will as he drags his tongue across Bruce's underwear. "The inside of his mouth is velvety soft... really, _all_ of him is soft. Regeneration's healed away the worst of his callouses. The worst of his scars." Slade's mouth trails down Bruce's neck, his breath warm and intoxicating.

Bruce has to remind himself to keep breathing as Will reaches up, slipping his hands into Bruce's underwear and pulling his cock out.

There's absolutely no question that Will has gotten a solid lesson from Slade. There's a similar style and a similar level of technique that indicates as much, but there's also just the fact that Slade keeps purring in Bruce's ear about how good a student Will was the night before that makes it impossible to forget. From the moment Will sucks the head of Bruce's cock into his mouth to the moment where he deep throats him, swallowing Bruce right down to the very base like it's the easiest thing in the world, Slade never lets up on his comments, making it impossible for Bruce to forget that it isn't just Will and him involved. Even if he's still dressed, Slade is undeniably a part of what's happening, right up to the point where he reaches over, taking Bruce by the chin and turning his head to have a better angle to kiss him at.

Bruce wants to say something. Really, he does. He wants to comment. He wants to ask how the hell Will got so good overnight. He wants to tell him how well he's doing. But every time Bruce opens his mouth the best he can manage are a few incoherent groans as he loses his grip on what's happening faster and faster.

When he cums, it hits him so suddenly he doesn't even have time to warn anyone. One minute he's mostly holding it together, and the next Will does _something_ with his tongue—swirling it around the head in just the right way—and Bruce loses it, going falling over the edge. Will coughs, spluttering at the suddenness, and Bruce feels like every bone in his body has melted as he sags heavily against Slade, entranced by the image of Will between his knees.

"Next time warn a guy," Will mutters, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Bruce is struck, right that moment, by an intense desire to kiss him. Will's right there, and he reaches up instinctively, wrapping his arms around Will's shoulders and pulling him in for the sloppiest kiss of Bruce's life.

"Oh, he's giddy all right," Slade says, and Bruce can feel Slade's hand running down his side. For that matter, it's also _very_ hard to miss the tent in Slade's pants, and when he looks Will's in a matching situation.

Oh. _Oh._

"I promised Will that if he did a good job he could take a turn with me," Slade says. "Interested?"

Bruce is, but the real question is if he's more interested in watching or joining in.

"I want to watch," he says after a pause, deciding that as nice as the blowjob was, he's far more invested right then in seeing how the two of them work together. He's still tired, and the idea of being able to lean back and just _watch_ is enticing.

And the view delivers. Bruce strips down and grabs some sleeping pants while Will and Slade bicker over the details, and by the time he's finished brushing his teeth they're largely finished hammering out all the major decisions. Or at least he assumes they are, because Will's got Slade pinned to the bed, a hand on the back of his neck as his other fingers work at opening up Slade's ass. Slade's missing all his clothes, and Will's just got pants on, even if they're hanging open, his cock exposed to the air.

In another context, Bruce would assume that Slade wasn't into it. Will's holding him hard enough to bruise, and he doesn't look like he's being particular gentle with Slade's ass, either. But Bruce knows his husband, and he knows that Slade _and_ Will both have a taste for things on the rougher end of things. In a lot of ways, the two of them are the perfect match, because they both have a _much_ higher tolerance for it. All but the worst bruises will have faded by the morning, and neither of them is wary about letting their particular interests be shown.

But in the end, Bruce can't keep himself entirely out of it. He can't resist reaching forward, running his fingers through Slade's hair as Will works him open. He can't stop himself from cradling Slade's head as Will finally penetrates him, watching the reactions on his face, the way his mouth makes a perfect little _o_ when Will slams right into Slade's prostate.

"He's good, isn't he?" Bruce asks, letting his fingers tangle into Slade's hair.

"Rough," is the only word Slade can manage. It doesn't sound like he thinks it's a bad thing, and the groan that Will forces out of him is something else. Will is being even _less_ gentle than he was with Bruce, fucking into Slade absolutely relentlessly, and when Bruce lifts his hand away Will doesn't hesitate to shift his hand, reaching up to tangle his fingers into Slade's hair as he pins him to the bed, his other hand holding tight to Slade's hip.

There's something insanely erotic about just watching Slade's face. About watching the way that every single sound is punched out of him, since it's so obvious he's trying his hardest to keep from making any noise at all.

"You can relax," Bruce says, brushing his finger across Slade's cheek. "Just take a deep breath and let yourself go."

Slade does. Bruce can see the way his body relaxes, letting Will fuck into him relentlessly, and a minute or two later he goes crashing over the edge, finishing into the sheets with a very un-Slade-like whine.

Will keeps going for a little bit after that, and when he finishes, he's nearly silent. It's only obvious what's happening because of the way he snaps his hips, burying himself in Slade as far as he can go.

"Made a mess of the bed," Slade mumbles.

"We can just replace the sheets," Bruce points out. "It comes with the territory."

"Need to shower," Slade adds, still mumbling and clearly having no focus at all.

Will falls down onto the bed beside him, and Bruce reaches out, running his fingers through Will's hair almost absentmindedly.

"He's good," Will says simply, and Bruce rolls his eyes.

"Alright," he says. "Off the bed. I want to change the sheets, and then... I want to sleep."

He really, really needs it.


	16. Chapter 16

Bruce wakes to the realization that somehow— _somehow_ —he managed to fall asleep the night before having completely forgotten about Vicki's interview.

It isn't a pleasant realization. He's not sure how many hours he has, but he knows it isn't enough, and he rolls out of bed and speeds through he shower before Will and Slade can even wake up. Will's starting to stir when Bruce emerges from the bathroom fully dressed in a suit and in the process of adjusting a tie, and Will makes a little beckoning motion. Bruce steps over, and Will reaches up, fixing Bruce's collar for him.

"I need to go to the studio," Bruce says. "If I talk to Vicki, I might be able to figure out what's happening. Even if I can't stop it from airing, knowing what's coming will help."

"I'm not going to argue," Will says. Slade's already starting to wake, the bruises on the back of his neck from the night before already gone. "You don't have to convince me."

"Where's he going?" Slade mumbles, burrowing deeper into the bed.

"Studio. He's going to shake down Vale."

"Say hi from me," Slade adds, eye still firmly closed.

"I won't," Bruce says, rolling his eyes as he excuses himself from the bedroom.

Almost everyone's still asleep, but he sees early signs of Alfred, who he says good morning to before leaving.

It's just after eight in the morning when he arrives at the studio. Realistically speaking, he should probably have to wait in the lobby (or just be turned away entirely), but he's _Bruce Wayne-Wilson,_ and he uses that to its full effect as he simply breezes through security. When they ask, he says he's going to see Vicki, and absolutely no one questions that until he reaches Vicki herself.

Vicki looks less than enthused to see him when she first spots him, but after a moment the annoyance is glossed over with a polite smile as Bruce knocks on the open door of her office.

"Bruce," she says, tone a bit on the icy side. "I'm surprised they let you in."

"Regardless of the circumstances, people tend to let me in anywhere," Bruce points out. "I was hoping we could talk."

"I know what you're here for, Bruce, but the answer is no. I'm not telling you about the interview."

"Vicki, we've worked together plenty of times—"

"You've used my position to get your opinion out. You did it with Will, and you did it with Jason." Bruce goes to argue, but Vicki simply holds her hand up, silencing him immediately. "I'm not going to say I didn't benefit from it, because I did. I knew from the start that was what you were doing, but I allowed it to happen anyway. But this is _my_ interview, and _my_ scoop, and I'm not risking it."

"Could you at least—"

"No."

Bruce isn't used to being shut down so hard, and it takes a second for him to process, staring stupidly at Vicki. She hasn't invited him in, he realizes. He's still leaning in her door, having the conversation effectively in public.

"Could I at least plead my case?"

"That's also a no," Vicki says simply. "I have work, Bruce. I have work to do, and this is effectively the busiest week the media is going to get for weeks. Sure, a literal alien invasion was interesting news, but it was a one and done. This is the news that keeps on going, and now there's rumors that Luthor has _more_ information he's going to leak if things don't go his way."

That's the first Bruce has heard of it, and for a second it catches Bruce off guard.

Then he notes the slight quirk of Vicki's smile and realizes what she's doing. She's just passed him a rumor he didn't otherwise have, and Vicki Vale is too smart for Bruce to believe, even for a second, that it was a coincidence.

"...Alright," Bruce finally says. "While I'd prefer to know what the interview is about, I understand why you aren't willing to share that detail." He does what he can to sound diplomatic, even as he excuses himself. He knows her coworkers are watching, and while it's not the resolution he wants, she's at least given him _something._

He waits until he's back in the car before he calls Clark, sitting parked in the studio parking lot so he doesn't have to multi-task.

"Everything alright?" Are Clark's first words to him, which tells Bruce that everything _is_ alright on the other end.

"Potentially. Did you see Vale's interview?"

"I saw she was running one, but I didn't see what it was about."

"She hasn't said, and no one's willing to tell me anything. She _did_ tell me something else though; apparently, there's a rumor that Luthor has more information he's going to leak."

"First I've heard of it," Clark says. "I assume you want me to look into things?"

"If it's true..." Bruce pauses, running his hand through his hair. "Well, you know the big one for us."

"Might not be about you. I can't imagine he'd have evidence of more stuff related to you and not have put it out. If anything, he might have information about other people. Luthor's the sort of person who seems very willing to drag everyone else down with them if they have a chance."

"Do they?"

"Not personally, no," Clark says. There's a pause, and Bruce can hear him moving around. "He's in a secure cell with a 24/7 guard. I'm always on guard. We're looking into... into other accommodations, but for now it is what it is. He doesn't have any contact with the outside world."

"A lawyer?"

Clark makes a small pained noise.

"He's met his," Clark confirms. "It's possible his lawyer is operating on his behalf, but there's nothing we can do about that if so."

Fantastic. Bruce reaches up, rubbing at his temples, and then sighs.

"There's nothing we can do," he says simply. "There's no chance in the world that Luthor will simply tell us what we want to know. All we can do is keep an eye out."

Bruce has other things to worry about. He can't let himself get worked up by the theoretical possibility that Luthor might have more on them. He can't get obsessed with thinking about _more_ when he hasn't even dealt with what they have right then. There's still the interview. There's still the fact that people know Slade is Deathstroke.

There are a lot of complications and he doesn't like any of them.


	17. Chapter 17

The mood isn't half as somber as Bruce is expecting when he gets back, and it doesn't take long for him to find out why.

"We've received good news from Santa Prisca," Alfred informs him when Bruce ends up in the kitchen to find a small party happening. "The government has officially repealed their rather arcane laws about the passing of punishments from parent to child. While they still have plenty of work to do, it's a significant step up."

Will presses a drink into a glass into his hand, and Bruce feels a surge of relief when he sees how happy Jason looks. It couldn't have come at a better time, so Bruce is more than happy to join the group in on the toast.

"I assume this isn't going to do anything for Bane, but...?" Bruce guesses, glancing around the room.

"It will for his wife," Jason says. "Legally, she'd be free to go back to the city if she wanted. And now there's some talk about amnesty for Bane and his men."

Bruce is sure the surprise shows on his face.

"Amnesty?"

"Right now the government of Santa Prisca is having to split their resources. They're dealing with what remains of the cartels, and then they're having to deal with Bane and his men, who are _also_ dealing with the cartels attempts to reestablish themselves. It would be a much smarter move for the government to ally themselves with Bane, even if that would mean effectively bowing to his demands," Slade says.

 _His very modest demands,_ Joey signs. _He's not asking for anything crazy or anything like that. He just wants those responsible to step down, and that's going to be the big hurdle._

"People like that hate giving up power once they've gotten it," Will says. "Matthew was the same way. If Bane wants things to be better for his people, he should be smart about it and just take things over now rather than waiting for the government to hum and haw and then tell him to fuck off."

Bruce shoots him a dirty look. "You're talking about a coup."

"I'm talking about a rebellion. They're corrupt, and we're literally having a party to celebrate the fact that the international community just shamed them enough that they decided to stop putting babies in prison. They're not going to get better unless they're forced."

"I agree," Damian chimes in. "That sort of despot cannot be counted on to act in the favor of their people."

"Alright," Slade says, cutting the argument off before it starts. "This isn't for us to decide, so having a debate about it doesn't really matter. What _does_ matter is that Bruce hasn't seen the latest video we've got of the twins, and I think that's the most important thing right now."

It is. Bruce gets hustled down to the cave to watch a home movie of the twins, who are just over six months old and _very_ excited to play peekaboo with their father.

"I should send a care package," Bruce mumbles to himself when the video wraps up with the twins holding the stuffed bats he gave them.

"Maybe you can put one together later," Slade says, patting Bruce on the shoulder. "I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

The conversation stays light as they finish up their drinks, and the mood stays, if not cheery, at least _decent_ for the rest of the day. But as they draw closer to six, the tension continues to increase until Bruce can't take it anymore and has to bring it up.

"Jason," he says. "Do you have a... a plan for what to do at six? Do you want to be in your room, or...?"

"I'm going to be wherever you're all watching it," Jason says, his jaw clenching. "I'm going to... to be with everyone. I can manage that. I need to be able to manage that. If this comes up, I need to be able to... to handle it."

Jason's right, even if Bruce wishes he didn't have to be. If he really wants to go back to begin a hero, that means it might very well come up. Someone might say it in front of him.

And he needs to be able to manage if they do.

But there's still a level of caution that comes with it as everyone settles in. There's a TV in the living area of Bruce and Slade's room, so that's where they all end up, arranged on the seats so that Jason's in the middle. Everyone seems to be trying to get as close to Jason as possible, but Bruce wins out, settling in on one side of Jason with Joey on the other. Slade grumbles a bit—he clearly wanted to be in Bruce's place—but doesn't actually argue, settling for reaching around Bruce to scratch at Jason's back. Jason can't always feel the sensation, but he can at least feel the pressure, and he seems to relax under Slade's attention.

Damian, not to be out done, ends up sitting on the floor just in front of Jason, and Thad joins him with Jade in his lap. Of course, that means Damian has to run off and fetch Portia, who stares warily at Jade from her place in Damian's lap.

"...I'm not getting Dexter," Will grumbles. "No matter what."

"We're not asking you too," Bruce says, and Joey signals for them to be quiet, flipping channels until they're on the right one. The room immediately lapses into silence, and Bruce reminds himself that no matter what happens, they're all in it together.

The fact that the segment starts with a warning about _content that some viewers might find disturbing_ does not offer any encouragement. Jason goes stiff, and Joey leans in, offering quiet noises of encouragement to Jason.

"If it's too much," Bruce says quietly, "we can stop anytime."

Jason shakes his head, refusing to take the easy way out as the segment starts.

"Right now might very well be one of the most tumultuous periods in Gotham City history," Vicki Vale starts. She's dressed nicely, sitting alone in a seat as she talks to the camera, prefacing the interview. "Months ago, I was the first to report to you about the side of the story offered by Jason Wilson-Wayne."

There's a brief cut, and clips of Jason's interview start to play, including the segment about _reclaiming the name of the Arkham Knight,_ and then the segment about his kidnapping. If there was any question about what Vicki's new interview was going to be about, there isn't anymore. Bruce's mouth feels dry as it cuts back to Vicki.

"I, like many in Gotham, took that interview at face value. But recent allegations by Lex Luthor have brought that interview heavily into question. Luthor's allegations include the insinuation that rather than the Arkham Knight being an unnamed and unidentified figure, Mr. Wilson-Wayne himself is actually the Arkham Knight, who plotted for years to bring about not only the death of Batman—a man we now know is his father, Bruce Wayne-Wilson—but also Gotham as a whole. While that allegation might seem shocking and out of the blue, Luthor presented some fairly compelling evidence, despite the Gotham DA declining to press charges."

Jason is perfectly still beside them, and it takes a great deal of Bruce's self control to not just turn it off.

"Most people no doubt assumed that we wouldn't ever get to the bottom of things," Vicki says, leaning forward slightly in her seat. "However, we've been approached by a member of the public whose story we were able to vet with a significant amount of evidence who could set the record straight and verify things for us."

One of the militia, Bruce is sure. They'll be able to identify Jason. They'll be able to confirm Jason is the Arkham Knight, and even if that isn't going to be enough for charges to be pressed, it'll no doubt be a major blow in the court of public opinion.

Then the scene cuts, and Vicki is sitting across from a man Bruce doesn't recognize. He certainly doesn't _look_ like he belongs in a militia, but that doesn't mean much. He's in his sixties, overweight and deathly pale. His hair's thinned out, and he does _not_ look healthy. Bruce wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that he's spent time recently in the hospital, which only makes things more confusing. He's dressed nicely, but the suit doesn't fit quite right.

Jason is deathly still beside him. Slade makes a noise of alarm the moment the man appears on screen, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Should have killed him when I had the chance," he mutters, and Bruce is too distracted to lecture him on the point as Vicki starts talking.

"Mr. Austin," she says. "I can only imagine that the average citizen of Gotham would be unfamiliar with you. Can you tell us a bit about yourself, and how you became involved in all this?"

"I was an orderly at Arkham—the original Arkham, not the new one—for pretty much my whole life. I started there back before it was even closed for the big refurbishment. When Warden sharp reopened it, I took a job there. Got in at the ground level, so to speak."

The fact that he worked at Arkham seals the deal for Bruce, but he can't tear his eyes away.

"So you worked there for quite some time. Many people have negative feelings about Arkham Asylum for obvious reasons, but when it first reopened, it was hailed as a major success story—voted the number one psychiatric institution in the state."

"It was," he says. "No question. When it opened, it had all the best staff. There was a ton of focus on the institution when we first started getting super criminal patients, but over the years that started to degrade. There wasn't as much money coming in, and without focus, things started to slip."

"Can you tell me when you were first approached?"

There's no context for who he's approached by, which means everything is far more carefully scripted than Jason's interview was.

"Frank Boles was a member of Arkham's security staff. He approached me... well, maybe two years after it had reopened? His proposal was pretty simple. He knew orderlies weren't getting paid as much as we should, and with the patients getting more violent, working there was feeling less and less rewarding. I know a lot of people think about Arkham as being a place where real criminals were held, but we had a lot of other people there too. So Boles had set up a little racket, and we'd get extra money for doing jobs. Really mild stuff at first. People were always desperate for snacks from the outside world, and it's not like it's going to be any risk if we smuggle the Penguin in some fresh fish, right?"

He fidgets, reaching up to adjust the collar of his shirt, and then continues.

"Then it got worse. Everyone watching at home is probably thinking about what an idiot I am, but I swear I didn't realize how bad it was going to be. Boles didn't seem like a bad guy, and he promised back when we started that it wasn't going to be anything risky."

"Can you talk about who else was involved?"

"Normally I wouldn't, but at this point it doesn't really matter. I figure everyone watching has pretty drawn their own conclusions, but there were about ten of us. Half of us got killed when the Joker took over the asylum, including Boles himself, but of those of us who survived there were only six. Mills died about six months after that in a mugging gone wrong, and that just left the five of us. And now I'm the last one left—the others all got killed by the Arkham Knight."

Vicki rattles off the names and some context on those they killed, and Bruce reaches down, resting a hand on Jason's forearm. He's still perfectly still, eyes glued to the screen, and Bruce gets the strong impression that if Jason moves at all—even slightly—he'll break down. Staying still is the only way he's able to hold it together.

"Can you tell us a bit more about where things went after you were first recruited by Boles?"

"Eventually it got worse, and Boles had us picking up unmarked packages and smuggling them inside. Most of the time we'd just hand it off to him, but eventually I asked where they were going, and he said it wasn't my business. I started getting a really bad feeling around then. Boles was busy all the damn time, and he was constantly vanishing—barely even doing his job. Looking back, I'm pretty sure Boles waited until I'd bought a house before he dropped the bomb: he told me he'd been helping the Joker out, and that I was going to be helping the others with the Joker's little pet project."

"Had you dealt with the Joker before that?"

"Only at a distance. We were barely allowed in extreme isolation. You had to have a damn good reason to go in there, and my usual jobs didn't put me there at all. I always thought he was creepy, and that was above and beyond the rest of the people who were kept in that wing."

"But you did it."

"I'm not proud of it, but I did, It was a lot of money on the table, and like with everything else it started pretty mild. But it kept getting worse. Then one day, I get brought down to this old room under Arkham. Boles said it was left over from before the refurb, and it wasn't on any maps or anything. No one knew it was there, and Boles said I had a new job to add to my routine there. Then he opens the door up and there's a kid there."

Even though she must have known what was coming, Vicki's look of surprise certainly passes muster as genuine. She doesn't even prompt, and Austin keeps on talking.

"He's got this kid there and it wasn't like he was hiding who he was. There's just this black haired kid in a Robin costume tied to a chair, out cold. And he said all we had to do was feed him and make sure he didn't starve or anything like that, and he was offering more than triple what I was making in a year."

"And you said yes?"

"I said hell no. Even if I was willing to help hurt a kid, there was no way I was going to help hurt _Batman's_ kid. It seemed like a terrible idea from the start to the end, so I said no. And that's when Boles said I couldn't say no, and I was involved one way or another. I'd already been taking all that money, and that was it. He'd ruin my life if I tried to leave, and god, he had enough on me that there didn't feel like there was a choice. Now, looking back, I know that I had a choice. I could have gone and found the Batman and saved him. But at the time, Gotham was a different place. Even imprisoned, the Joker had reach. So I said I'd do it. I told myself that the least I could do was try and make it better. So that's what I did. I made sure he got food. I tried to treat him humanely, keep him from going completely crazy. I'd bring him what I could. It wasn't enough, but it was... No, I mean, even saying anything is just me trying to justify it to myself. The fact is that I failed that kid. I could have done more, but I didn't."

"I'm sure most people have already established it, but to be clear, the boy was...?"

"Jason Wilson-Wayne. He was just Jason Todd back then, but I didn't know that. To me and the others he was just Robin. Doubt anyone else ever asked his name, but I tried too once, and he was too out of it to answer."

"Do you know how he escaped?"

"I don't," he confirms. "I know a lot of people are hoping for me to confirm that, but I can't. I was off work when Joker took the place over. All I know is that when I got back to work a week later, the kid was gone. Someone had taken him, or maybe he'd escaped on his own. I never saw him again after that, and when the Arkham Knight started killing the rest... well, it might have been him, or it might have been someone doing it for him, but I decided it didn't matter. I waited for them, and they never came. I never found out why, and I still don't know, but I deserved it. We all did. The things we allowed... I think it'd be nice if the police arrested me for it at this point, but they probably can't, with the lack of evidence and all. But the point is that if the Arkham Knight _is_ the kid down there, then he didn't do a damn thing wrong. They got what was coming for them after what happened, and the only thing he did wrong was not making it a clean slate."

The guilt the man's been carrying is so painfully obvious that Bruce doesn't think anyone in the world can miss it. He wants to die not because he wants to die, but because the guilt is so extreme he believes it's what he deserves.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about what happened?"

"This is why I came at all," he says, leaning forward in his seat. "Because everyone in Gotham—hell, in the _country_ —is talking like they know what happened. They're talking about guilt or fault or things like that, but they don't know a damn thing. The fact is, there's not a single person in the world who's allowed to just Jason Wilson-Wayne, because there's not a single person who's gone through what he's gone through. That's the thing people don't get. That's the whole reason I agreed to this interview, because I wanted people to _understand._ Being captured by the Joker is bad. Being captured as a kid? That's even worse. But that's literally only a fraction of it. If he was captured and tortured and escaped, that would be it. But that wasn't what happened. Jason became Robin thirteen years ago. He was... I don't know, fifteen? Sixteen? He was a _kid._ And he escaped almost four years later. Four _years!"_

There are tears in his eyes, and Bruce is pretty sure there are tears in his own eyes as well.

"Think about someone you know. Think about a kid. About a kid who should be in high-school. Who should be getting a drivers license and starting to think about college and sh— stuff like that. And imagine them four years later. That's the whole of high-school, all four years. If he was sixteen when he went in, he was twenty when he got out. Four years of being tortured by the Joker! A part of me honestly still can't even believe that he's still walking around. The idea that he managed to go through all that and then become an actual _person_ who can do things with his life is insane to me. I don't understand where he found the strength. I don't understand how he could have gone through so much, and then could just go on and help people. How could someone be hurt so badly and then go out in the world and fight crime? He's been making the world a better place for years, and after everything he went through, I wouldn't blame him even slightly if he'd just spent the rest of his life in retirement, doing nothing."

"I think that's about all the time we have," Vicki says. She seems bothered, and Bruce knows her well enough to know that it's genuine. She isn't acting about that: she's truly bothered by how intense things got, and no doubt by the idea of what happened to Jason. "Do you have any final words?"

"I just want people to understand what he went through. I want them to think of everything he's been through—of all the horror he endured—and the fact that he's still going out there to try and help people. He's helping people doing the whole Outreach thing, and he's helped people as Batman, and he's helping people as Raptor, and I don't know where he finds the strength. He... he's the strongest person. Not the strongest person I know, just the strongest person, and I wish people recognized that."

The interview wraps with Vicki politely signing off, leaving everyone watching to dwell on what they just learned.


	18. Chapter 18

It's impossible not to expect the worst case scenario. Bruce braces himself for tears. For having to call in Hudson to oversee things.

But Jason is, to Bruce's immense surprise, fine. Or at least better than he probably should be.

He's still overly still, his hands lying palm-up in his lap, but he's not trembling. His eyes look wet, but the tears aren't falling. He looks like someone who has just received upsetting news, not someone who just had the worst part of their life broadcasted to the world at large.

It could have been worse, Bruce accepts. The details of the torture were light, and Bruce knows Jason's reaction would have been much worse if it hadn't.

"Jason?" Slade says from Bruce's other side, reaching out over Bruce to touch Jason's arm. The touch drags him back to reality, and Jason makes a small little choked noise as he turns to look at Slade. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Jason says, maybe a bit too quickly. "I just... need to process that."

"This is a good thing," Damian announces with all the sureness of someone who can't legally drive. "The public knows everything that could reasonably need to know now. Those who were angry will settle down, and those who took a middle ground will change their minds. No one could have watched that and not recognize how great you are."

"I'm not..."

"You are," Damian says. 

The last part is delivered staring directly at Jason, who looks away in embarrassment. "You endured great hardship and came out on the other side a better person. A person who wishes to help. I am certain, even if this interview hadn't aired, that those facts would have come out anyway. Other people you helped would have begun to come forward to make that clear to everyone."

Joey reaches up, taking Jason's chin and turning his face so Jason's looking at him. He doesn't sign, mouthing the words instead, and it's clear Jason understands even if Bruce carefully averts his eyes to avoid listening in.

"What now?" Thad asks from his seat on the floor. "People will believe Jason, but..." His eyes drift over to where Slade sits, and Bruce knows what he means.

"You go back to school on Monday, for one," Will says. "The worst should have passed by then."

Assuming nothing else comes up. Assuming Luthor's threat is a hollow one.

Bruce doesn't bring it up.

"And the rest of us go back to our lives," Bruce says instead. "We continue to act the way we were before."

 _Did you talk to Lucius about me?_ Joey signs, and Bruce nods in response.

"He said he'd be happy to have you , even with all this going on. He thinks it would be good for the company to have at least one Wilson there."

The corner of Joey's mouth twitches up with amusement before he composes himself.

_Even if I'm missing the Wayne part?_

"The names are all but inseparable at this point."

"As they should be," Alfred chimes.

"I... think I need to go visit Thomas," Bruce says. "We don't normally go on Thursdays, but I don't think going a day early would be a big deal or anything like that."

"As long as you're not making me go," Will grumbles. He's never really liked Thomas, but then Bruce supposes Thomas never really liked him, either. If Thomas does get out—and that's a big _if_ —they'll have to learn to get along.

"Everything resumes Monday," Bruce says simply. "Alfred, can you talk to the construction crew...?"

"I will speak to the most vital crews tomorrow. We can bring them on one at a time to minimize the amount of disruption their return may cause."

"Siracca is going to be visiting Jon tomorrow," Thad says. "Damian and I are going to spend the day over there." There's a brief pause, and he looks to Will. "If that's okay."

"Don't see why it wouldn't be."

Bruce can't help but check in on Jason repeatedly as the day goes on, but Jason seems to have been telling the truth. He's not _fine,_ but he's much better than Bruce expected, even if Bruce does often catch him staring off at nothing, lost in thought.

Bruce reaches out one of those times, resting a hand on Jason's shoulder and dragging him back to reality.

"I know I don't say this enough, but I'm happy you're here. I'm happy you're still with us, and I couldn't be more proud of you."

Despite his good intentions—he'd hoped it would help Jason calm down—Bruce's words have the opposite effect, and Jason bursts into tears immediately.

Oh no.

"Sorry," Jason mumbles, half-incoherent behind sobs as he buries himself against Bruce while Bruce desperately attempts to hug it better. "I know. I know you care. It's just a lot and I'm... I'm really tired."

Bruce makes sure Jason gets to bed early that night, seeing him to bed and handing him off to Joey, who looks just as worried as Bruce himself feels.

Bruce allows himself to check the response online only once Jason's gone to bed, and is relieved when he does. Damian's right: the response to the interview is overwhelmingly one-sided, with nearly universal support on their side. The only real debate seems to be what (if anything) should be done about Austin himself, who admits to what he did but also clearly regrets it.

But the reaction to Jason is mixed not between anger and acceptance but between pity and respect. For some, they're simply unable to get past what happened to Jason. For others, the reaction is one of glowing admiration: of shock that anyone could go through what he did and come through unscathed.

There are those who aren't on either side—those still wary of the family, or skeptical of what they've just learned—but they're almost universally rejected by the rest.

It is, absolutely undeniably, a positive reaction for them.

Which is why Bruce is caught off guard when Lois calls. He's expecting casual conversation, with Lois checking in after the interview to see how things are doing. But from the first word, the tone of her voice makes him sit up a little bit straighter.

"Bruce?"

"Lois," he replies immediately. "Is Clark there?"

The subtext is _does he need to be?_

"He's still out," she says, and there's a brief pause. "There's men here. They asked me to call you, but there's people outside your gate and they're looking for discretion."

"Men," Bruce says warily. "What kind of men?"

"Men in suits with hidden guns," Lois says. "I'd say they were organized crime, but I think they're from a three letter agency."

Bruce doesn't need to say that it isn't good. Lois knows as much.

"You didn't let them in?"

"They're waiting outside my gate. Bruce, I know you're worried, but the boys are all here and I don't think there's a force in the world that could storm the house. I'm more worried about you. They're asking for you and Slade."

"Just Slade and I?"

"Just the two of you."

That could be a lot of things, and Bruce leans over to the computer, sending a group message to everyone in the house to let them know what's going on.

"Did they say why?"

"They didn't. It's all very hush hush."

Bruce drums his fingers on the desk, working through his options. The problem is that there are a _lot_ of people it could be, and ignoring the issue isn't likely to help them right then.

"What do you think it is?" Lois has good instincts, and she's the one with the most information right then.

"If I was going to guess? The odds that they're trying to arrest Slade seems pretty slim, but if I had to guess there's some new crisis they want your help with and they're trying not to look like they're crawling back to the League, even though that's exactly what they're doing."

"Wouldn't they just go to Clark?"

"He doesn't exactly have the availability," Lois points out. "Clark is perpetually busy until they have a way to contain Luthor reliably. So that leaves the rest of the League. Have you talked to Diana?"

"I've been on the phone with you the whole time."

Lois makes a noise of amusement. "You have the ability to send texts, and I know you're competent enough to manage to talk _and_ text at the same time."

Bruce grumbles a bit, but she's right, and he quickly sends a message to Diana, checking in to see if everything's alright on her end. The response is more or less immediate, confirming that everything's fine and asking what's going on. He lets her know that he'll keep her updated and that it (probably) isn't an emergency, and then turns his attention back to Lois.

"They're still at your gate?"

"Waiting for you and Slade, apparently."

"I'll be over in a bit. At the very least, I want to talk to them and figure out who they are."

Half the family's already leaning in the office door, so he hangs up and turns around to brief them. Jason's there, even if he's in pajamas, and Bruce frowns a bit at that, sure he should be in bed.

"There's black suits by the Kents gate asking for Slade and I. Lois thinks they might be from a three letter agency, but they're insisting it has to be kept quiet."

"Clark?"

"Still with Luthor. Diana hasn't heard anything."

"Could be damn near anything," Slade says. "I assume we're going over to check it out?"

"I'd prefer if everyone else stayed here. With the Kents there it isn't as if there's a physical threat, and I'd rather keep the rest of you away from them."

"Have you considered what you're going to do if they're here to arrest Slade...?" Jason asks, voicing something Bruce really wishes he hadn't.

"They're not going to," Slade says simply.

"They might be trying to get you away from the family to minimize the risk that you lash out."

"By putting me near Clark's kids?"

"Jon would fight them if they tried to take Slade," Damian says simply, and no one's willing to disagree with that assessment.

"The point is... have you decided on it or not?"

Bruce looks to Slade, and Slade looks right back at him. It isn't something they've discussed. It isn't something they've really even considered, but the fact remains that it _is_ a possibility. There's a chance they'll need to decide right then, and Bruce pauses, taking a deep breath.

"...We'll deal with that when it comes up," Bruce finally says. "It depends on how they present it. The circumstances of it all."

It depends on if they're offering a deal. It depends on how they phrase it. Bruce doesn't want Slade going anywhere _near_ prison, but if the alternative is the entire family having to go on the run...

...Bruce doesn't want to think about it at all.

"Be careful, okay?" Jason says. "Just because the Kents are there..."

"We'll be careful," Bruce reassures him. "You don't have to worry about us."

Bruce knows he's going to worry anyway.


	19. Chapter 19

Lois and her boys are waiting for them when they reach the Kent house, watching out the back windows as they approach. Clark's parents have already gone to bed, apparently confident in the fact that nothing serious is going to happen that night.

Bruce set up the Kents security system himself, so it's easy for him to access it, pulling up the front gate camera. There's an unmarked, blacked out sedan sitting in front of it, with at least two people that Bruce can see sitting there. Lois's instincts about them being from one of the various _three letter agencies_ seems right on the money to him, and he exchanges a quick glance with Slade before activating the intercom.

"I was told you'd requested me?"

He watches through the cameras as the two men lean in, discussing something that the mic can't pick up before turning to answer.

"Your presence has been requested."

"By who?"

Someone official, if Bruce has to guess. The question is how high it goes, and more importantly: _why._

"We were told that you'd come if we told you there were butterflies in the area."

 _Butterflies in the area_ is Clark's discrete authorization code. It means, in simple terms, that he's asking whoever hears the code to trust the person with it. Or at the very least to go along with what they ask.

Which means it's related to Luthor.

Bruce leaves his finger off the intercom, turning to Slade.

"Who's in charge of Belle Reve right now?"

"Joint effort between the Federal Bureau of Prisons and DEO. So... Justice Department."

"...Crap," Bruce mutters after a few moment. No matter what happens, Bruce already knows he isn't going to like it. He reaches forward, activating the intercom again, and addresses the agents. "What can you tell us about the situation?"

There's no use pretending there isn't a situation. Luthor's either done something or he's about to do something, and Clark's calling them in to help. The question is why it's just _them,_ and not Diana or anyone else. What needs their attention but can't involve their family?

"We're supposed to escort you to the airport, where you'll be flown to a secondary location."

The _secondary location_ is no doubt Belle Reve.

"Do we need our gear?"

"No."

That's... interesting, and Bruce isn't sure what to make of it.

"Can we not just have Clark's kids fly us? It would be faster."

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce doesn't bother to correct them. Instead, he turns to Slade, who offers only a shrug.

"Clark did authorize them," Slade points out, and Bruce sighs.

"We'll be out in a moment," Bruce finally tells the agents.

He sends a brief and discrete message to Diana, and then entrusts Lois with explaining the situation to everyone else back at the house as the two of them head down to the Kents front gate. One of the agents is standing outside the car when they get there, and he pops the back seat open, holding the door for them. All of Bruce's warning bells are going off, but he simply has to remind himself that he's with Slade, and Slade can _absolutely_ just tear the car door off its hinges. He's not in any danger.

The trip to the airport is silent and uneventful. The plane, as Bruce expects, is a small private plane, although it seems more like a small aircraft meant for local flights than one that's intended to take them to Louisiana. Bruce supposes it's possible they're going to have to transfer, although the idea of having to hop from flight to flight is _very_ irritating in light of the fact that any of Clark's boys could have gotten them there in record time.

The agents escort them onto the plane, but since neither has bothered to introduce themselves, Bruce is fairly sure they're only coming along for the sake of ensuring Bruce and Slade arrive safely.

"So," Slade says when they're on the plane, "taking bets. Is he holding the government hostage and that's why they're calling us in, or is he about to release something even _worse?"_

"Well, if it's worse, it's not about us," Bruce mutters. "The secrecy _does_ imply that they don't want the public knowing they're calling us in." Probably for their help, but despite the fact that Bruce and Slade are having the conversation right beside them, neither agent chips in.

Fantastic.

When the plane starts to descend, however, Bruce knows something's gone awry.

"...This is DC," Bruce mutters. "But we're not going into Dulles?"

Slade knows enough to catch the implications, and he sits up a little bit straighter. "So this is our final destination?"

Bruce's head whips around, looking at the agents, and makes no attempt to hide his scrutiny.

"We're going somewhere in the capitol?"

There's a little twitch in the one man's face that tells Bruce the answer is yes, and he isn't sure how he feels about that. They're still going there because of Clark, but the fact that they're not going to Belle Reve...

They land on the far end of the airport, taxing into a private area before disembarking. There's another blacked out car waiting for them, and Bruce catches himself chewing at his nail as they slip inside, accompanied by their escorts.

The capitol. They're about to meet someone important, and Bruce doesn't even want to _guess._ The head of the DEO? Whoever's in charge of Belle Reve?

"If it's Waller..." Bruce mutters under his breath, and Slade barks a laugh at the very idea.

"She's not stupid enough to get near you."

Bruce hopes she isn't. He can't stand the idea of having to deal with her again.

Unsurprisingly, they end up approaching the capitol building, and even less surprisingly they're slipped in through security at the rear of the building. It's late—long past normal operating hours—and the place is quiet. There's still people there (Bruce doubts it's ever completely empty), but there's no one there to spectate about two members of the Justice League being ushered inside.

Bruce isn't familiar with the layout of the building. He doesn't know the inner workings. Aside from his stint as mayor, he's done what he can to stay out of politics, and he's left everything related to them to Diana.

Which only makes her absence that much more alarming.

They're lead into a side room to wait and for the first time their agents leave them. They're not alone though: there's a man on the far side of the room staring up at a painting, dressed in a nicely tailored suit. He's dark skinned and bald, and it isn't until he turns to look at him that Bruce realizes that he's wrong on both accounts.

The man is, to Bruce's immense (and carefully concealed) alarm, a skeleton. He appears to be literally nothing more than black bones, his empty eye sockets staring over at them as Bruce attempts to figure out what the _hell_ is going on.

Slade's eyes narrow.

"...I have a lot of questions, but right now I want to know why it smells like you just finished murdering someone."

It's literally impossible to read the skeleton's reactions. He doesn't have any sort of facial muscles to read, meaning he has the world's most efficient poker face. The best Bruce gets out of it is when the skeleton rather blatantly cocks his head, turning to face them properly before offering a gloved hand.

"I'm impressed you can smell it. For the record, it's my sweat—as long as you don't make skin contact, you'll be just fine."

Bruce stares down at the offered hand for a moment, weighing his odds.

"Glove's specifically tailored to prevent any skin contact," the skeleton clarifies, and after another moment of hesitation Bruce shakes his hand. Confusingly, his hand feels like normal: it feels like he's shaking a normal hand, rather than bones.

"...You're Director Bones," Slade says suddenly. "I always thought you were a myth."

"Best kept secret in the capitol," Bones says. "No one wants to believe the DEO's being run by a walking talking skeleton."

Bruce can't handle it. It doesn't make any _sense._

"Does someone want to explain what the hell is going on?" Bruce says. "We haven't been told anything, and I have no idea who you are."

"Robert Todd," he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his suit. "But do feel free to call me Bones. Everyone else does. Regardless, I'm the director of the DEO, although several others have acted as my representative at various times. Before you ask, because I know you're thinking it, my flesh is invisible and I sweat cyanide. Skin contact with me can be lethal, requiring me to be kept away from the public anyway. My condition lends itself well to a job like this."

"I can imagine," Bruce says.

"That explains the smell," Slade says, wrinkling his nose. "It's not strong, but still very... present, if you've taught yourself to pay attention to stuff like that."

"As nice as this is, I assume we weren't flown all the way here to have a meet and greet with you," Bruce says. "I assume something happened with Luthor?"

"And this is why you're here," Bones says with a wave of his hand. "Because you're supposed to be the world's greatest detective, and that's just what we happen to need."

Bruce doesn't get a chance to ask for clarification, because the door opens and Clark steps in. Even worse: Clark steps in _with J'onn,_ and the realization hits Bruce like a truck.

"Oh no," he mutters. "Luthor's dead, isn't he?"

For all the damage Luthor's just caused, Bruce didn't want him dead. Clark's look of surprise is immediate, but only lasts a second.

"I should have known you'd figure it out," he says. "Even before we had a chance to explain things."

"Explanations elsewhere," Bones says with a wave of his hand. "Lets get this show on the road."

Bones obviously knows where he's going, and it's just as obvious that Clark and J'onn have already done introductions, because Bones heads right out of the room like he owns the place and everyone else falls into line behind him. He guides them through the halls to another room, knocking once before letting them in.

Bruce forgets what he was thinking the moment the door opens. He recognizes the Attorney General and Sasha Bordeaux, the head of ARGUS, but it's the man sitting down at the office desk in the small room that's impossible to ignore.

The last person Bruce expected to be meeting that night is the president.

It's not the first time they've been in the same room—he was there when Gotham was deciding on evacuation—but it's not as if they've _met_ before, and the room is hardly any bigger than Bruce's office at home. It's cramped with the eight of them, and Bruce's brain starts to run a mile a minute. There seem to be an awful lot of pieces, and he really, _really_ just wants someone to start putting them together.

Mercifully, someone does.

"Alright," Director Bones says, gesturing for everyone to sit. "Lets get down to business, because we're on a schedule. We've got three people who haven't been brought up to speed—" Bruce is betting on the Attorney General. "—and we don't have a ton of time. Kent, bring us up to speed."

Clark looks surprised at being called upon, but after a moment he stands, clearing his throat.

"J'onn and I have been switching off guard duties with Luthor. J'onn's abilities allow him to take my form, meaning it's impossible for anyone coming in to tell which of us is there. Yesterday—"

"Today," Bones corrects. "We haven't ticked past midnight yet."

"Today," Clark clarifies, "I checked in on Luthor at four, which is when I delivered his food. Just before six, J'onn arrived and swapped with me, and I went to go watch the interview. J'onn?"

J'onn takes over seamlessly. He's in his normal martian form, and standing side by side with Bones they make a _very_ odd looking pair.

"I did not immediately check on Luthor, as Clark had already provided his dinner. I entered the room at eight to check in on him as normal, and discovered that he was dead and seemed to have been for some time."

"Cause of death?" Bruce asks. He shouldn't interrupt, but he does anyway.

"His neck was broken," Clark says. "J'onn contacted me immediately, and I returned to determine cause of death. Being completely honest, it was obvious that it had to be an inside job, so we kept it quiet and contacted the head of Belle Reve—"

"Please tell me it's not Waller," Slade mutters under his breath.

"It isn't," Clark says with a small huff. "They contacted... well, everyone else here, more or less. Director Todd has taken charge of the situation, and here we are."

Bruce isn't clear on why Bones is in charge until he takes a second to think about it: someone managed to get past Clark and J'onn, both members of the Justice League, which technically falls under DEO control. That all but guarentees a meta was involved, and that puts it _firmly_ in his territory.

But that leaves a larger, more pressing question.

"...This is a League failing," Bruce says, eyes sliding around the room, watching reactions. "The League tasked itself with protecting Luthor, and now he's dead. But now you've gone to the League to investigate the murder, when you have nothing proving it wasn't J'onn or Clark who did it in the first place. So what is it we haven't been told?"

Clark looks nervously towards J'onn. Bordeaux looks at the president, who grimaces.

It's the president who finally speaks, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

"We have strong evidence that the person responsible is a government official, if not multiple government officials. Which means that we arrested Luthor, put him under Justice League guard, and then one of his own arranged to have him killed. To say that this would damage the public's faith in the system is... massively understating it. But more importantly, it was strongly implied by Luthor that he had _more_ blackmail material, and it's likely he was killed to prevent its release. Which means that the corruption..."

The president reaches up, pulling off his glasses and burying his face in his hand. It's an absolutely devastating blow to the current state of affairs.

"This is why you're here," Bones says, taking over when it becomes obvious the president isn't going to continue. "We need to know who killed Luthor, we need to know who hired them to do it, and we need to know what it was they were trying to hide."

"What are you offering?" Slade says. Bruce is more than content to let Slade handle things: he's the one with experience on this kind of negotiation.

"The Justice League is currently in a precarious position," the president says. "The United States will back the League when it approaches the UN for official recognition, allowing you to operate in friendly countries to help with things like natural disasters."  
  
Which is a non-offer. They can effectively already do that as long as they're invited, and the bulk of the time, they are.

"We're also willing to formalize legislation about vigilantism," he adds. "Obviously there's details to be worked out, but the fact of the matter is that no one benefits from any of you going to jail. You help get to the bottom of this and it becomes very public. Even though Luthor targeted him, the Justice League helped bring his killers to Justice, and as a result, amnesty on a national level."

The attorney general speaks up for the first time, clearing his throat to draw attention. "Officially we can't do anything on a state level, but I also can't imagine that you'd have much trouble at that point."

"Who does that extend to?" Bruce asks, and it's clear they know exactly what he's asking after.

"All Justice League members and associates. That includes your kids, even if they're not acting members."

They're being offered a way out. Taking the deal is a win for both sides, assuming they can actually figure out who killed Luthor. It lets them root out corruption. It lets them have formal amnesty. It increases the options the League has.

But it isn't enough.

"I want something else," Bruce says, and Slade's eyebrow goes up, making it obvious he hasn't had the same thought Bruce has.

"You might as well say it," the president says with a wave of his hand. "I'm not going to pretend this is us doing you a favor here Mr. Wayne. In the best case scenario this is a massive embarrassment for us, and more realistically it'll be impossible to function normally until we can figure out who was behind it. We _need_ to get to the bottom of this, so ask for what you want."

"I want your word that, if we find out who's responsible, they'll actually be charged."

The president raises an eyebrow, and Bruce clarifies.

"Waller ran an illegal operation for years with government oversight. She was ruining lives and doing all sorts of off the books work, and she never saw justice for it. I'm not going to get to the bottom of it, find out a senator or something was involved, and then have it get shoved under the rug. If I get the truth, I want it to matter."

"Done," the president says immediately, and the attorney general sputters a bit at how quick it was, but doesn't actually argue. "I want the truth, and you have my word it'll be dealt with. Formal charges."

It's enough for Bruce.

"Alright," he says. "Let's get down to business."

Even if he hated Luthor for what he did, Bruce isn't going to let that get in the way of finding out the truth.


	20. Chapter 20

Having Clark on their side is undeniably a huge advantage, and Bruce doesn't feel any guilt taking advantage. They have a decent flight down to Belle Reve, and Bruce sends Clark back to the house on their behalf.

"You don't need to tell them any details, but tell them we're safe, no one's at risk, and I need my investigation kit."

"Your... investigation kit," Clark says, looking at him warily. "They'll know what that is?"

"I'd hope so," Slade says. "Jason used it when he was Batman."

"The... the same kit?"

"It's been upgraded," Bruce clarifies. "Obviously it's going to take us time to get there, so feel free to get some rest, Clark."

"Can't," he says immediately. "I need to be on guard at Belle Reve, so I'll have to fly ahead and meet you there."

Bruce isn't surprised that J'onn travels with them, his skills no doubt invaluable for the investigation, but he _is_ surprised when Director Bones comes along.

"It's important there be a third party who witnesses the investigation," he explains, and Slade lets out a snort of annoyance.

"You're not a third party," he points out. "Depending on how strict people think the League is, you're our bosses bosses boss."

"Which is why I was chosen at all," he says, settling into his seat on the plane. Bruce wonders what the half-life of his sweat is—is the seat going to need to be sanitized? "Quite frankly, the current administration can't risk the possibility that the DEO is found to be corrupt. If I'm corrupt, then the entire investigation is moot anyway, so they've opted to act as if I can't possibly be so."

Bruce can see the logic to it, even if he doesn't agree.

"Having two would—"

"Not help," Bones interrupts. "To be completely clear, the information we have relating to corruption is highly confidential. It can't even be shared with you. But what it indicates is that there are _multiple_ high powered figures who were involved. Any one observer could sour the situation."

Bruce wonders how high it goes, and it's that thought that stays in his mind as he nods off during the flight.

Clark's waiting for them when they land, handing over Bruce's kit without a word. It looks like a particularly large (and durable) briefcase, and Bruce doesn't need to inspect the contents to know that it's there. He _does_ regret not requesting a change of clothes, because both he and Slade are just wearing what they were wearing at home. Bruce is happy he at least has a button up shirt, but Slade's wearing, of all things, a T-shirt with the old Batman logo on it.

It's not exactly professional, to say the least.

It's clear to Bruce as they approach the prison that no one there knows what's going on. It makes perfect sense for members of the Justice League to come visit Luthor, and it's _very_ obvious that the staff assume that's whats happening.

"...Just how contained is this?" Bruce asks quietly.

"The only people who know are the people who work the maximum security wing where he was being held. Currently, no one's left the building except for myself and J'onn. It's unlikely that the killer is still inside, but we were concerned about information getting out," Bones explains. 

Bruce knows it's only a matter of time. They're swept through security as fast as possible, and the fact that _they're Batman and Deathstroke_ is enough identification for the majority of people. Bones is apparently at least generally familiar to many, and the closer they get to the high security wing, the more obvious it is that the staff know who _he_ is.

In the end, they come to a stop in the maximum security wing and get lead towards the security room. It's a large, state of the art setup, and nothing looks particularly out of place, save for the fact that every member of the staff looks like they've been awake the whole night and are in serious danger of losing their jobs.

"I assume the security footage was erased?"

"Security footage for Luthor's room was looped. Security footage for the whole maximum security area was erased in a six hour block. We can at least determine it was erased _after_ the murder, likely as the last thing the killer did."

There's an order of events there, and Bruce has a good feeling it'll be important to know _exactly_ what the order is.

"Does this security room have access to the internet?"

"No," one of the staff says. He hesitates, obviously unsure if he's supposed to be answering, and then when no one corrects him opts to elaborate. "The entire maximum security wing is on a closed system. We've got our own power generation, our own intranet... You can't even put a USB stick in the computers without the entire place going into lockdown."

Bruce can't resist. He lays down the case, pressing his thumbs into the divots to allow biometrics to do their thing. The case pops open—really just the top layer—and he retrieves what looks like a particularly fancy USB stick. He makes no attempt to hide it as he picks it up, snapping the case closed, and then strides towards the computer.

"Don't—" One of the staff starts to say, and Bruce goes right ahead and pops it in.

The facility does _not_ go into lockdown, much to the obvious and very apparent confusion of the staff.

"I'm Batman," Bruce says as if that explains everything. "This is what I do."

"...That's fair," one of the staff mumbles, and Slade absolutely cracks up.

What Bruce doesn't tell them is that the USB stick has just handed access of the system over to Barbara. Bruce actually has to step outside just to send her a message, giving her the security room's phone number and a clear enough directive: get the footage. Keep it quiet.

The moment that's done, he turns his attention back to the others.

"...I think we need to see Luthor."

Luthor's cell is intended to be secure, and there are multiple security checkpoints between the security room and the cell itself. There are cameras everywhere, and Bruce notes the locations as they travel through the hall.

"He's still in there," Clark clarifies for them. J'onn's still in the security room keeping watch, but the four of them—and the staff who are keeping their distance—still feels like too many. "We didn't want to move the body."

"Smart choice," Slade says. "I'll stay in the hall."

Luthor's body is exactly where Clark found it. He's dressed in his prison uniform, his body splayed out face down. Despite the position of his body, his head doesn't quite match, the angle deeply unnatural and making no question as to the cause of death.

Or at the very least the _obvious_ cause of death. It's entirely possible that Luthor was killed another way, and that breaking his neck was just to prevent anyone from paying too close attention. Bruce isn't willing to rule anything out, so he retrieves a kit and then carefully takes samples from the body.

"Blood toxicology," he says quietly. "And a DNA test. We need to confirm this is Luthor as quickly as possible."

"X-ray wise, he matches," Clark confirms. "But obviously I can't naturally check something like DNA."

"That's why we have test kits," Bruce says. "Position of the body..." He squats down, looking over it, and considers. "He was caught off guard. Either he didn't hear them enter, or he didn't turn around for some reason."

Something about the way he's posed scratches at Bruce's perception. There's something about it that bothers him, and the more he looks, the less he understands.

Finally, he recognizes it.

"...The location," Bruce points out. Luthor's cell is a relatively large room, with enough space for him to freely move around in. But for some reason, his body's fallen right near the center of the room. "If I was sitting in my room with nothing to do, where would I be? Sitting on the bed. Lying on the bed. Working out using the walls. Why would you stand in the dead center of the room?"

"Because you're waiting for someone," Bones says, confirming Bruce's own line of logic. "Are you implying Luthor might have been killed because he was attempting to be dramatic and facing away from his attacker?"

"Which means they were friendly," Clark guesses. He seems uncomfortable, and Bruce notes that he refuses to look directly at Luthor's body. "If he thought he was in danger, Luthor wouldn't have stood there."

"It could be two different people," Bones points out. "He might have been expecting to be freed, but someone else got there first."

It's possible, but Bruce doubts it. The timing would be _amazingly_ coincidental if true, but he can't entirely rule it out either.

They need more information. They need more data. They still haven't confirmed if Luthor's the one who died, they don't know who did it, and they don't know why.

Bruce leaves the room, kit in hand, and hands off the samples to Clark.

"Take these back to Jason," he says. "The lab's set up enough to let him process them, and we already have samples to compare against."

"Do I want to know why you have Luthor's DNA?"

"Because we're not stupid," Slade says with a snort. "The moment we had a chance, we took it... exactly for scenarios like this."

"I can't exactly fault you for that, can I?" Clark mutters, taking the samples Bruce hands to him. "Especially when it might help us solve this."

The moment Clark's gone, Bruce turns his attention to Bones. Bruce gets the impression that he's probably raising his eyebrows, but there's no way to actually tell.

"I'm going to assume you need something," he says simply.

"Lex Luthor isn't an idiot. He's an extremely cunning man, and he would have known the moment he allowed himself to be captured that this was a possibility, even if he didn't expect it. I need to get access to his will."

"His _will?"_ Bones asks, disbelief in his voice. "What, are you expecting to inherit?"

Bruce doesn't bother to hide his smile, because that is, in a way, _exactly_ what he's expecting.


	21. Chapter 21

Bones sends someone off to look into things, refusing to go far from Bruce. It's a good idea, but it's immediately disrupted by Slade.

"I'm going to step out and make some calls," Slade says, and Bruce raises an eyebrow. Slade doesn't elaborate, just winks at Bruce and excuses himself, leaving Bones looking rather unhappy at the whole thing.

"...I would have preferred you stay together."

"We often don't," Bruce points out. "We have different specializations, as you can imagine."

"I can imagine. What would be next on your list, then?"

"Checking to see if we've managed to get the security tapes back yet."

It hasn't been very long, but Bruce is counting on the culprit realizing they had limited time and acting accordingly. If the delete was a secure one, it would have taken a fair amount of time, and the fact that it happened quick enough that no one noticed it was happening makes Bruce confident that it wasn't as secure as the culprit would have liked.

J'onn's sitting down at the computer when they arrive, a phone floating just beside his ear as his hands handle the computer. Bruce reaches down, taking the phone, and there's a moment of resistance before it seems to unstick, letting him nestle it in between his head and shoulder.

"Oracle," he says simply. "What do you have for me?"

"Not as much as I'd like," she says. "J'onn said something about you having someone watching you?"

"He's here," Bruce says. "Anything I should make sure he does hear? We have other people watching as well."

"You're going to want to clear them all out before you fill us in."

Bruce relays the information to Bones, who orders everyone out. Apparently they've been instructed to do what he wants, because none of them object. The moment they're out, Bones turns towards Bruce expectantly.

Bruce swaps the phone to speaker.

"Oracle, I've got Director Todd—"

"Director Bones, please," he corrects. "It really isn't a nickname I take offense to."

"Director Bones here. He's the leader of the DEO, and he's overseeing the investigation. What do you have for us?"

"Who is this, exactly?" Bones says before Barbara can start talking.

"My daughter-in-law," Bruce explains. "Barbara Gordon-Wayne. She's our computer expert and one of the most skilled hackers in the country, if not the world."

"You're talking me up too much," Barbara says. "I'm out of practice, but thankfully I'm working with a major advantage your opponent doesn't have: time. It's pretty obvious that they were in a rush."

It fits with what Bruce knows, and he nods along as Barbara elaborates.

"It looks like your suspect did the same thing you just did. There's access logs that weren't completely scrubbed indicating an external drive was inserted into the computer which bypassed the protection there. It's a major security flaw, and when this is all over and done with I'll explain how to properly isolate external drives to prevent this sort of thing from happening again."

"Do we know what they did yet?" 

"I'm still in the process of recovering the security footage. Parts of it have been damaged, but thankfully we caught this fairly quickly, so most of it should be recoverable. From what I can tell, the drive was inserted before Luthor was killed. It allowed our hacker to take remote control of the security room, causing the footage of Luthor in his cell to loop."

"Only in his cell?"

"If they'd looped the whole building, someone would have noticed. It would only take one person noticing to cause a lock down, so they appear to have done what they could to minimize the chances of someone noticing. It's safe to assume they had some way of not being detected. It's possible the killer is someone who actually works there, for example."

That's one of several possibilities Bruce is in the process of narrowing down, but he keeps that to himself.

"So they looped his cell. Did they do anything else?"

"I'm working on that. They seem to have accessed several other routine systems, but it's difficult to tell what was done without being on site."

"Did they unlock the cell?" Bones asks, arms folded across his chest. "The cell should have been locked from the start, and they shouldn't have had any way to get in, but apparently that didn't stop them."

"Possible, but I can't confirm or deny right now," Barbara says. "I'm prioritizing the footage."

"Are we going to get footage from inside Luthor's cell?"

"No. The cameras weren't recording at all, since they were set to loop."

Well, there goes the best case scenario.

"So when things were done, the suspect must have signaled to his hacker in some way. Then, the hacker started silently erasing the previous six hours of footage. The external device was removed, and that was that."

"So our suspect entered the security room, physically inserted a device, went off and killed Luthor while his hacker handled the security footage, returned, collected his device, and left?" Bones says. "Just making sure I'm following."

"That's right as far as we can follow the data," Barbara confirms.

There's a knock at the door, and Bruce tells Barbara to wait. He doesn't need to have bothered, because it's Slade who leans in, looking _deeply_ pleased with himself. Bruce tells Barbara he'll call her back and turns his attention to his husband.

"Let me guess," Bruce says with a smile of his own. "You have a lead?"

"I have a number of leads," Slade says, as smug as it's possible for a human to be. "But most importantly, I have _the one lead that matters."_

"Care to fill us in?" Bones asks. Bruce gets the distinct impression that he's unimpressed.

Bruce gives Bones a long, hard look, and then simply gets right to it.

"Denali—" Bruce thinks it's a pretty good idea to keep Wintergreen's name out of things. "—is retired. That said, he claims semi-retirement, which is the same status that the Balkan is. Technically still available, but extremely selective with jobs. It lets him keep an eye on things for us on the parts of the dark web that the government barely knows exists."

"I assume he found something?"

"Eight months ago a hacker started taking jobs. Mostly small ones, nothing dangerous. He gained a reputation, worked on some industrial espionage, you know the deal."

Bruce does not, but he can imagine.

"Within the last few days there have been _multiple_ job postings all aiming for Luthor. High paying ones, with a lot of cash on the line. A new guy, no reputation, took all of them. An hour later, a job posting goes up for a job that Denali linked back to the same guy who took the hits on Luthor. The same hacker I mentioned took that job for far less than the danger it was worth, which means he probably didn't make the connection to the hits that were taken out on Luthor. So we've got two people in play: our killer, who has no reputation and is a dead end to track down this way, and our hacker, who we could potentially track down and might be able to lead us to the killer."

"That's a big might," Bruce says. Nothing Slade's said would have warranted the kind of excitement Slade's showing, so Bruce eyes him warily. "What's the catch?"

"The _catch_ is the _nom de guerre_ our mystery hacker is operating under. Took a bit for Denali to pull it up, but the guy's still active and taking jobs as of thirty minutes ago, so it wasn't _that_ hard."

"Just say it."

"Our mystery hacker is Hosun."

It takes a second for Bruce to remember where he heard the name, and when he does his eyebrows shoot up.

"Will's son-in-law?!"

"Probably this world's version of him, but most likely. It checks out—the other universe's Hosun was Will's tech guy."

"So you know this guy?" Bones asks, glancing between the two of them.

"We know of him," Bruce clarifies. "More importantly, we should be able to find him. Will should know his full name and probably where he was operating out of, and we can work from there. Hosun might not have the exact details of who he was working for, but he'll have more details than we have right now."

"It's a solid lead," Bones says. "How dangerous is he...?"

"Not is the answer you're looking for," Slade says. "He's a kid who's really good at computers who isn't smart enough to keep himself from taking jobs that would put him at risk."

"Assuming he's the same," Bruce says. "All the information we have is based on how he is in Will's world, and there's no guarantee it'll be the same here."

"So the question is how we're doing this," Slade says simply. "Right now we've got three leads. We've got Hosun, we've got the will, and whatever Barbara's cooking up with the security footage."

"It would appear we need to be in three places at once," Bones says with a sigh. "In an ideal world you would handle all three, and I would supervise. Unfortunately, matters are time sensitive. Might I recommend you dispatch your own team to apprehend this Hosun, let me handle Luthor's will, and the two of you rest here while you wait for the camera footage to be sorted out."

"You should tell Clark," Bruce says. "Let him handle things with Hosun."

"I'll pass the message on."

Bruce is, if he's being honest, _exhausted._ With nothing that he can immediately manage, his adrenaline is crashing into the floor, and Slade seems to catch on to that fact, leaning over to press a kiss to Bruce's temple.

"There's a break room on the far side of maximum security," Bones says. "I'll show you where it is, and you can get some rest."

Bruce is all too happy to oblige.


	22. Chapter 22

The fact that Bruce wakes himself up is a bad sign. It means Slade, asshole that he is, decided to let him sleep in rather than waking him. Bruce can't imagine that Barbara's taken _all night_ to deal with the cameras, and the fact that Slade has just _let him sleep..._

Bruce picks himself up, splashes water onto his face in the bathroom, and then heads to the security room.

Slade's there, but he isn't alone. There's what looks to be an entire crew of normal employees going about their business, although several stop to stare when Bruce arrives. There's no sign of J'onn or Clark, or even Bones, so Bruce heads right for Slade, scowling up at him.

"You let me sleep."

"You needed it."

"I needed to be aware of what was happening, Slade."

"And now you will be," Slade says. One of the employees scoots over, offering them both coffee, and Bruce takes it, mumbling a thank you before knocking it back like his life depends on it.

"Barbara checked in that it was going to take five hours to process, so I send her to bed. She should be getting us the results within the next thirty minutes, so I was going to come wake you anyway."

"Clark? Will? Where's Bones?"

"Bones is asleep elsewhere in the facility. It wasn't safe for him to sleep in the break room like you did, so he had to requisition a sanitary cell."

Well that's a grim thought.

"Clark?"

"Clark and Will went to deal with Hosun. They've got him and are interviewing him now."

Bruce wants to ask for a detailed play by play of the order everything happened in, but right then he decides it probably isn't worth arguing for.

"What else happened?"

"Luthor being dead got leaked. Coroners in with the body now, but Bones couldn't hold it off any longer. We were running against the clock, and the clock won."

Goddammit. Things being public makes the entire situation _much_ harder. Bruce reaches up, rubbing at his face as he tries to drag himself fully awake, and then lets out a sigh.

"What can I be doing now?"

"Sitting," Slade says. "Waiting. Get some food and wait for Barbara to call."

One of the employees gets them food, which Bruce devours at the first opportunity. Even if Luthor was the _big ticket,_ there's still other people in Belle Reve's maximum security wing, and it's not as if everything can just go on hold for the investigation. Bruce and Slade simply do their best to stay out of everyone else's way, and it feels like a massive relief when the phone finally rings.

"Barbara," Bruce says, "please tell me you have something."

"I have _everything,"_ she says. "This is why you pay me the big bucks."

"We don't pay—"

"That's what I thought, Bruce. You can remove your thumbdrive from the computer, by the way. We're finished, and I'm not going to need it anymore. Really, it would be easier if you'd go somewhere I could just talk to you on your tablet."

Bruce is happy to get out of the security room. They don't leave Belle Reve entirely, heading instead for the guard's usual break room. There's comfortable seats and more coffee, and Bruce pulls the tablet out of his investigation kit, booting it up and letting Barbara access it remotely.

Her voice sounds much clearer coming through the tablet, and Bruce leans back on the couch, watching as she pulls up file after file.

"Wow me," he says, and Barbara lets out a laugh as Slade joins Bruce with some more coffee.

"So, Luthor's room is a bust. The cameras just weren't recording, so there's nothing to recover. I managed to recover the majority of the security footage from elsewhere, but the footage from the hallway directly outside the security room is heavily fragmented."

"Can you show us the footage for the security room?"

"That's almost entirely intact. I can tell when the remote link was established, so I can tell when they were in the security room and when they left. Here's when they arrived, and here's when they left."

She plays the two clips side by side, and it isn't hard to pick out their suspect. She's an older woman, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, and she moves with a confidence that implies she either belongs there or isn't expecting to get caught. She walks right up to the computer, puts the thumb drive in discretely, and then leaves without drawing attention to her. On the other video, the process repeats with minimal deviation.

"If that's our killer, she has to be a meta. She doesn't have an ounce of muscle on her, there's no way she could just snap Luthor's neck like that," Slade points out.

"Barb, could I see one of the hallways between Luthor's room and the security room?"

Barbara takes a second to pull one up. It's just a hallway, with nothing particularly interesting about it, and she rewinds to an hour before the killer reached the security room, playing it through on a rapid speed. People speed up and down the hallway, and Bruce is having a hard time following. The only reason he doesn't ask for her to slow it down is because he knows Slade's paying attention, his eyes flicking back and forth as he takes everything in.

"...and that's it," Barbara says. "That's from an hour before to an hour after."

"Either the person who handled the security room is a different person, or we're dealing with someone who can either turn invisible or shape-shift. The woman from the security room doesn't appear at all."

"Can we get the camera directly outside the security room and try and time it against the woman leaving the room to go to Luthor?"

Barbara does, which makes the problem readily apparent. The woman walks through the door, and in the brief blind spot between the security room and the hall, a completely different person emerges.

"Shapeshifter," Bruce mutters. "Which means tracking them around the facility will be extremely difficult."

"I'll work on it," Barbara says. "What else?"

"Even as a shapeshifter, he shouldn't have been able to get past Clark _or_ J'onn," Slade points out. "How'd that happen?"

"Where _is_ J'onn?" Bruce asks, glancing around as if expecting him to pop out of the wall.

"Left overnight," Slade says. "He was going to fill in the rest of the League."

"This should have been a League mission to start."

"Diana and Arthur are not American citizens, and we are dealing with a situation where a large number of government officials are being implicated. This is politics, Bruce."

"I don't need _you_ of all people to point that out," Bruce says. He's tired. He's tired and more than a little frustrated. "Barbara, can we see what you have for the footage outside of Luthor's room?"

She shows them, but it isn't pretty. The footage is heavily damaged, and in places it's nearly impossible to understand what's happening. The only thing Bruce really gets out of it is that twice someone approached the room during their ideal window.

Slade looks deep in thought, so Bruce allows himself to speculate.

"Neither J'onn nor Clark mentioned this. So the question is how they allowed—"

"Got it," Slade says, leaning forward. Bruce sputters a bit, but watches in absolute confusion as Slade flips through the video. He pauses right near the start, tapping a section of the screen.

"What's that?"

Bruce squints through the awful video quality and takes a guess.

"A clock?" It's digital, and that makes it far easier to read than a traditional analog one.

"Time matches up with the timestamp for the video." Slade fast forwards, zipping through tons of grainy footage, and then goes frame by frame right around ten minutes before J'onn should have arrived.

Then he pauses, and it takes Bruce a second to see it. The moment he does, he reaches up, slapping his forehead in frustration.

The clock's time is ten minutes off. Even though there should be more than ten minutes before J'onn arrives, the time reads that it's nearly six.

"Barbara, those access logs you pulled. You mentioned they accessed other systems. Would that include things like the clocks?"

"It would," Barbara confirms. "Let me see if I can verify that. What are you thinking?"

"Hosun flips the clock in the hall forward ten minutes. J'onn arrives, taking over for Clark. J'onn, in this case, is actually our shapeshifting suspect, who steps inside, kills Luthor, and then steps outside to wait as Clark. The real J'onn arrives, taking over, and our suspect leaves, shapeshifting when he's around the corner. Both Clark and J'onn believe they encountered each other at the same time, when really they never did."

"Confirmed," Barbara says, and Bruce fights the urge to pump his fist in the air. "He didn't even clear the logs for the clock switch. Oversight, most likely, but the clock was manually adjusted and then allowed to resync to Belle Reve's systems."

The door opens, and Director Bones pops his head in.

 _"There_ you are," he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I thought you'd taken off for a moment there."

"You've got good timing," Bruce says. "We've worked out some details."

They relay what they've learned to Bones in short order: the nature of the killer and how he managed to gain access to Luthor in the first place, as well as how they worked it all out.

"Most importantly, this is stuff we can confirm with the hacker. We'll have evidence on his side of things and be able to verify it," Bones says, and Bruce can hear the relief in his voice. The more verifiable things are, the better. "Do we know who the killer is or where we can find them?"

"We don't even have a lead on that," Bruce admits. "They're a shapeshifter, which makes more or less the entire country suspects."

"We have one lead," Slade corrects. "Luthor was expecting them. We can't confirm it, but it's strongly implied."

Strongly implied might not be good enough for a court, but it's all they have right then.

"So order of events, most likely situation," Bones says. "Our shapeshifter was supposed to come help Luthor escape, or visit him in prison to get instructions or something like that. He betrayed Luthor, killing him instead. For... cash?"

"That seems to be correct," Bruce says. "We know several contracts on Luthor's life were taken out just before his death by the same person who hired Hosun. Money would seem to be a major motivator, but beyond that it's just speculation."

Bruce doesn't want to speculate more than that. Not until they've dealt with Hosun, and not until they've followed up their other leads. There's nothing to be gained from it, and right then, Bruce has other things to focus on.


	23. Chapter 23

They get their first glimpse of Hosun not long later. Barbara sets up a secure conference call, and Bruce props the tablet up on the table, letting all three of them take a look at it. Flying out is briefly discussed, but when it turns out that Hosun's several states away, it's ruled out. It's simply more efficient to call in and handle things that way.

Bruce has seen a picture of the other world's Hosun only once, but from what he remembers they look fairly similar. The Hosun sitting beside Will looks a bit younger and a great deal more nervous, and Bruce can't blame him in the slightest. He is, without question, in a _lot_ of trouble.

"I want immunity," Hosun blurts the moment the connection is up, and Bruce rolls his eyes, letting Bones do the talking.

"And I want Luthor not to be dead," Bones says. "So let me tell you how this is going to play out. You tell us what you did and who you did it for, and I'll tell the prosecutors to _only_ go after you for hacking charges."

"But—"

"Felony murder rule, kid. If someone is murdered during a felony, all the offenders accomplices and co-conspirators are considered equally guilty. That means _you_ are equally liable for the murder of Lex Luthor."

Hosun goes white as a sheet, and Bruce feels a stab of pity. He's still young—hardly more than a kid—and he's in way, _way_ over his head.

"So you're going to tell us what you know, and if you help us out, maybe you'll be out of jail before you're old enough to be a grandfather."

Bones is playing hardball with him, and Hosun looks on the verge of tears. Like that, Bruce is pretty sure he's even _younger_ than he first thought. The guy can't be much more than twenty.

"Okay," he says, voice only a shade over an outright whimper. "I— I've been doing some jobs, and this guy posted a job two days ago. Said it's a rush job, he needs someone who's good at what they do. Pay looked great. I almost backed out when he explained, but I swear he never mentioned murder. He said he needed to talk to Luthor, and that was it."

"What did he need talk to him about?"

"No idea," Hosun says. "You don't ask questions like that in this line of work. I didn't even find out Luthor was dead until Superman shows up at my door."

Clark isn't in the shot, but Hosun turns his head, obviously looking up at Clark where he stands watching them.

"Lucky you," Bones says, obviously unsympathetic. "Tell us what you did and how you did it."

"There's a loophole in the prison's setup. There's no external access, but if you have someone deliver the payload you—"

"We don't need the technical details," Bones says. "Simple terms."

"I got him to plug a USB stick into the security room computer. That let me hijack their systems without anyone noticing. I looped the camera in Luthor's room so the conversation he was having wouldn't be recorded, and then set things up so that he could get inside. He's a shapeshifter, so all I had to do was change the time on the clock. Then he could pretend to be the Martian, get Superman to leave since it was time for them to swap out. When the real Martian came, I fixed the clock and he pretend to be Superman."

Clark makes a noise of distress in the background, but Bruce is more interested in the details.

"Did he come up with the plan?"

"I helped fill in some details, but yeah."

"Who knew about Superman not being there?"

"That was him," Hosun says. "He said... I mean, he could have been lying, but he said one of the clients gave him the information, so we should consider ourselves lucky."

That narrows the pool of those responsible immensely, but that's still only one person. Bruce is sure that Bones is already tallying up a list of those who knew in his head, but he doesn't ask. Not in front of Hosun, anyway.

"What else can you tell us?" Bruce prompts, and Hosun shifts in his seat, looking more nervous by the second.

"The guy I worked for went by EM. Said he was new in the business and just getting a start. He was definitely a shapeshifter, but I'm not sure if it was gear, or if he was a meta or something like that."

"What'd he look like?"

"Me. The first time I met him he looked just like me."

Well, that's not exactly reassuring.

"Did he have any restrictions on his shapeshifting?"

"He had to look at someone. Like, real life. So to get in he had to wait for someone to leave the prison, and then he took their face and went back in because he forgot something. I had to make a copy of the pass to get him through security, but that was the easy stuff."

Bruce runs through what they know, but he can't think of anything else Hosun is likely to know. He's not going to have access to the contracts that _EM_ took, so he can't put them closer to the people behind everything. They know a fair amount about the killer, but actually tracking him down is going to prove difficult.

But it's at that point that Bruce realizes the most obvious issue with what they're doing.

"...If the killer finds out Hosun's been captured, there's a high likelihood he'll be targeted," Bruce says, and somehow Hosun manages to go even paler. "We need to be discrete while taking him into custody."

The fact is, Bruce isn't sure it's _possible_ for them to be that discrete. The corruption goes to the highest levels if they knew about Clark and J'onn trading off, which means...

"I'd like to hold Hosun in the manor's holding cell," Bruce says. "No records of his arrest for at least the first twenty-four hours while we try and get things under control."

"Legally—" Bones starts.

"Legally doesn't factor into it," Slade says. "The kid's going to end up dead in any other situation." He turns his head, looking dead at Hosun, and raises his eyebrows. "You want to take that chance?"

"I'll go to the manor," he blurts immediately. "As long as you want, no questions."

In his situation, Bruce is sure he'd be taking the same deal. It's vastly superior to the alternative, which risks Hosun ending up dead by the hand of the very man he helped less than twenty-four hours earlier.

"No objections," Bones says. "It's unorthodox, but I assume this conversation was being recorded?"

Barbara's face cuts in briefly to flash a thumbs up, and it returns to Hosun.

"Good," Bones says. "Mr. Kent, get Hosun back to the manor as discretely as you can manage. Lock up his house like he's just on vacation. We've still got one lead to follow up on, and I don't want to keep it waiting."


	24. Chapter 24

There's nothing else for them to do in Belle Reve, and one major thing left to do elsewhere: Luthor's will still needs to get sorted out.

They're already in the air when Bones gets DNA confirmation, which is good, because Bruce doubts anyone who worked as _Lex Luthor's_ lawyer was going to settle for anything less. The news is already reporting on Luthor's death, and Bruce finds himself skimming through comments as they head to Metropolis.

For the most part, the response is simply _good riddance._ Luthor was never well liked to begin with, and the public at large hasn't yet worked out the implications of him ending up dead. They're not yet thinking about the _how_ or the _who,_ and Bruce is desperately hoping they'll have a solution before they do.

They still need to fill in details. They still need to actually catch the killer.

And perhaps most importantly of all, they still need to find out who ordered the hit.

There's food waiting for them when they land, which Bruce is _very_ happy for. He feels like he hasn't eaten much, and the entire situation is playing out the way it would have a decade ago, when he had the sort of energy required to just do multi-day investigations without adequate rest. Slade isn't flagging at all, but Bruce sure as hell is, and having actual food in the airport's private terminal after they land (but before they've been picked up) is a mercy.

That being said, watching Director Bones eats is a downright surreal experience.

"You're not actually invisible," Bruce observes as he watches food vanish once Bones has closed his mouth.

"Correct," Bones says. "If I was, you'd see bits of food floating around, which I imagine would be quite unpleasant. Anything that goes into my body vanishes."

"Much less horrifying," Slade says, and Bones lets out a little bark of a laugh that he covers with a cough.

Twenty minutes later they're picked up by Steve, their escort while they're in Metropolis. He feels familiar in a way that Bones and his men don't, and Bruce is happy to have him around. He's met Bones before, but still treats him relatively formally, since Bones is effectively his bosses boss if Bruce is getting things right.

He drives them to a large and rather plush office building, speaking quietly to security on their behalf. There's not really a point to it: regardless of how the public may or may not feel about them, he and Slade are still members of the Justice League, and the idea that they might just be _turned away_ is nearly unthinkable. In just under two minutes they're escorted into the elevator and up to near the top of the building, through the front doors of a law office, and down a hallway into a private room.

Luthor's lawyer is exactly what Bruce expects: all business, with zero interest in messing around.

"Mr. Luthor's death certificate was just confirmed. No state requires a reading of the will, and I'm not going to bother you running through it, since almost none of it matters to you. If you care, you can consult it via the court. The only thing that matters to you is this."

He produces, of all things, a keycard, holding it out for Bruce to take.

Bruce is absolutely not surprised to learn that Luthor left him a _keycard_ in his will.

"What were the terms of handing it over to us?"

"When Bruce Wayne or someone acting on his behalf arrives as part of an official investigation into my death, were the terms laid out. This qualifies."

They keycard is plain gunmetal, and there's an address stamped on the back. Idiot proof, in other words.

"Where's his money going?" Slade asks, paying little attention to the card as Bruce inspects it.

"Certain amounts have been set aside for specific causes. The bulk of it will be divided between his heirs, the majority of which will be put into a trust until they come of age."

Slade's smile is thin and annoyed.

"Which is just another elaborate fuck you to Clark."

"I can't comment on Mr. Luthor's motives."

"We've got what we came for," Bruce says, holding the keycard up. "Let's figure out where this leads and stop wasting time."

Really, he just doesn't want Slade getting into an argument with a _lawyer_ of all people, but Bruce's curiosity is also getting the better of him. He wants answers. Obviously Luthor was prepared for them, but how much? How far ahead of time did he expect this?

It's entirely possible that the keycard's been in place for months, if not years, and nothing they'll find is going to help. Despite the logistics of it, it feels equally plausible that the keycard's only been there for a day or two, and Bruce regrets not having asked when they first retrieved it.

The address leads them to a relatively secure warehouse in an industrial park on the outskirts of Metropolis. There's nothing particularly distinct about it, and no Lexcorp markings. There's actually no markings at all, but the building is obviously fairly big, and it takes a bit for them to both locate parking and what looks like the entrance.

"We should have brought Clark," Steve observes. "He'd be able to tell us what was inside."

"There could be a trap," Steve points out.

"There's not a trap," Bruce says, going right ahead and swiping the keycard. "Lex Luthor wants to believe he's the hero. Everything he does makes perfect sense to him, and once you get a hang of his logic, you can follow it without too much difficulty. The fact that we're here means his initial plan has failed. Knowing Luthor..." The door beeps and slides open, and Bruce lets himself in as he considers the possibilities. "Luthor will want revenge on the person who killed him, and ideally some way to allow himself to return to life."

"...Does he have that?" Steve asks, following Bruce in.

Bruce doesn't get a chance to answer. The facility is effectively one very large room, but the room is _filled_ with machinery, making seeing any distance difficult. Bruce spots countless server racks and multiple pieces of heavy duty equipment, and looking around he can't help but let out a low whistle.

"I guess we know where Luthor was hiding while he was out."

There's no question that's what they're looking at. The facility has a full blown lab and everything else Luthor could have possibly needed. Bruce spots boxes of non-perishable food not far from the entrance, and with power and running water he's sure Luthor could have lived there for years without being found.

"Something just booted," Slade says, cocking his head to listen. "Back left corner of the facility."

They work their way down narrow walkways in between server stacks, and Bruce begins to worry at the sheer number of them. Luthor has some major processing power, and he can't work out what he'd be doing with them. No part of his plan requires so many. No part of his plan explains why he needs _any_ of them for that matter.

Bruce gets his answer when they round the corner. There's a computer set up, obviously hooked into the racks around it, but it's not the computer that draws his attention but the man standing beside it. Luthor's there, dressed nicely in his suit and looking very much alive, and he smirks in their direction when he sees them.

"He's not real," Slade says, grabbing Bruce's shoulder before he can do anything.

"That's a rude thing to say," Luthor says, and after a moment Bruce realizes what Slade means. Luthor's standing on a platform behind glass, and when he looks closer it becomes obvious that things aren't quite right. Luthor isn't Luthor at all, but a projection intended to look like him. He's speaking with Luthor's voice and moving with his gestures, but the projection still isn't the real thing.

Which is what clues Bruce in to what all the servers are for.

"You're an AI replica," Bruce says.

"And this is why you're here, Mr. Wayne," Luthor says. "Because I knew I could count on you to figure it out without me having to explain things to you."

Steve looks confused, but he's not willing to ask, so Bruce simply explains for his behalf. Bones might very well be confused as well, but he's been quiet, observing without comment as Luthor observes them in turn.

"The possibility existed that you'd be killed in prison, so you prepared a backup. You can't be the exact same, but you're close enough to manage. That's what all this hardware is for—managing an AI who could pass the turing test requires a huge amount of storage and processing power, and you're already well beyond that."

"Correct," Luthor says. "But also incorrect. I am the exact same. I am Lex Luthor, as he lived and breathed."

Bruce _almost_ wants to say that it's impossible. It shouldn't be possible, but that doesn't mean it actually is. How things _should_ be has precious little baring on how things actually are, as he's starting to realize.

"Why don't you get comfortable," Luthor says. "We no doubt have a great deal to discuss."


	25. Chapter 25

"I should have known you wouldn't _actually_ be dead," Slade complains as he makes himself comfortable. "With someone like you, it never sticks."

"An intentional decision," Luthor says. "Being dead would prove to be a significant handicap to my plans."

"I want to know how you managed this," Bruce says. "This is something that's barely even theoretical at this point. We haven't mapped the human brain enough to replicate it, and the technology just isn't there. The fact that you built it and worked on the first try..."

Or he hopes it was on the first try.

"You're going out of order," Luthor tuts.

"We're going the order that matters," Bruce says. "How is this possible?"

He needs to know that first, because he has a sneaking suspicion that the answer to _how is Luthor capable_ is that he isn't... without help.

"Well if you must know, the answer was in your friend the Eradicator. He is a digital mind projected onto a flesh and blood brain. I simply reversed the process, projecting a flesh and blood brain into a digital mind."

"That isn't possible. You had Era for a few hours at most." Bruce doesn't even think it was _that_ long. "No matter how smart you are, Lex, no one's that smart."

"Just because you're shortsighted doesn't mean I am, Mr. Wayne," Luthor says. "The Eradicator was not housed in the body you believed he was in. It would be more accurate to say that the Eradicator was stored on the Kryptonian warship, and the body you believed he was in was simply a remote terminal."

Bruce really just wishes Luthor would stop calling him _The Eradicator._

"You've been remotely accessing him for longer than we thought," Slade says, arms folding over his chest. Really, Bruce wants to applaud his self control, because he can tell he'd like to put Luthor down right there.

"Correct," Luthor says. "I had limited access, of course. The Kryptonian security protecting him was quite powerful, so until I was willing to tip you off I was forced to look but not touch. I attempted to maintain control, but obviously that didn't work out as I would have liked."

"You didn't manage to kill Will."

"Correct."

"This is all very interesting," Bones says, "but could we get to the point?"

"Impatient," Luthor chides. "But if you insist, allow me to speed up. The body you identified as Era was a terminal intended for short term use. He would continue to gain information from the warship while asleep during normal operation, preventing the Kryptonians from having to explain the situation each time to him. The terminal, however, was not intended for long term use. Cloned Kryptonian bodies degrade over time, and Era as you know him would have died within the next few years. My estimates put it at two, but he might have lasted three depending on how judiciously he used his powers."

Oh. Bruce's heart sinks at the realization. Even if Era might still have been considered alive within the ship, there's no way to be sure that the parts that make Era _himself_ would have transferred over.

And more importantly, there's no way for them to make a new body for him.

"Now now," Luthor says. "I've already resolved the problem for you. I terminated The Eradicator's body in such a way that emergency protocols were activated. His brain was successfully uploaded into a crystal located on the Kryptonian warship."

Terminated.

"Era's still alive," Bruce points out.

"His brain is effectively empty. There's no data inside. He is a computer with a wiped harddrive."

Bruce feels sick. Everything Luthor says is deeply matter of fact, but what he's saying feels like a blow to the head. Era is, for all intents and purposes, dead. Luthor's prepared a _digital backup,_ but there's no way to know for sure if it's actually worked.

"You said you resolved the issue," Slade says. "That isn't resolving it."

"Patience," Luthor chides, turning his head towards Bruce. "I really can't tell what you see in him."

"You don't have to," Bruce says. "The point is that we _are_ running down the clock."

"Ah yes, my murder," Luthor says. "We'll get to that."

Ah. Things click together, and Bruce suddenly understands what Luthor's getting at.

"You're not a true backup," he says. "Kryptonian computing technology is lightyears beyond ours. You're a faulty backup, and the _real_ one is in storage on the warship."

Luthor makes a face, obviously unhappy that Bruce has skipped ahead, but there's nothing he can do. Now that Bruce understands those details, everything makes much more sense. The AI isn't a _true_ AI, just as close an approximation as Luthor could manage. Using Kryptonian technology to copy a brain is vastly easier than using human technology, after all.

And it must really, _really_ piss Luthor off to be so dependent on Kryptonian technology.

"You want us to bring you back. To restore Era _and_ yourself," Slade says. "I don't see why we should."

"For one, I can identify my own murderer," Luthor says. "I understand that's a significant advantage for you, and something you would desire. That's why you're investigating, after all—if you weren't, you wouldn't have arrived here for some time."

"When were you even woken up?" Bones asks, speaking for the first time. "Have you been aware the whole time?"

"I've been awake for less than a half hour," Luthor says. "I activated when Mr. Wayne inserted the keycard. I have a relatively limited lifespan, as you can imagine. The longer I run, the more my system will degrade. I'm drawing a massive amount of power to run, and you are correct: human technology is not at a level where a true AI could be sustained."

Which means their time is severely limited.

"Allow me to elaborate for the mentally incapable among us," Luthor says. "In an ideal world, we would not be having this conversation. My original plan would have succeeded, I would have escaped from Belle Reve, and gone forward with my plans. However, things did not play out that way. All previous plans have been placed on hold, and I am now pursuing a single goal: ensuring my return to life through any method possible."

"All other plans are off the table," Bruce says.

"I do not believe that any one action I could take would ensure all of my goals," Luthor confirms. "Therefore, until I am fully capable of acting on my own, everything else must be set aside. If that means working with Kent, then so be it. If it means entrusting my fate to the Kryptonians from Kandor, than I will do what I must."

"How noble of you," Bones says dryly. "I want to know who killed you."

"The plan for my escape is simple. A while back I engineered a serum which would allow a person who took it to shapeshift much in the the way that the Justice League's own martian does. There were significant side effects from the serum, so it was shelved to allow me to focus on other ends. One test subject, however, succeeded. In the event of my incarceration, he was tasked with infiltrating my prison and delivering an updated version of the serum to me."

"Let me guess," Slade says. "He'd pretend to be you to cover your escape while you left the area?"

"Correct. When he was revealed as a body double, he'd be freed and paid handsomely for the privilege."

"If you had a serum that would allow you to shapeshift anytime you wanted, why didn't you take it to begin with?" Bones asks, and Bruce has to agree that it's a pretty good question.

"Because the updated serum—the one _without_ lethal side effects—should last only twenty-four hours and would have ended with me vomiting up parts of my body."

Ah.

Well, that explains it.

"So he betrayed you," Bones says. "And now you're dead."

"So it would seem," Luthor says. Even if he's only an incomplete AI, he's still genuinely impressive. Without knowing better, Bruce would have sworn he was simply on a remote call with Luthor. "Obviously I don't have access to the original Luthor's memories of what happened, but the fact that none of you contradicted me about the details I've already provided indicates that it fits with what you already know."

It does. Everything Luthor's just told them fits perfectly, and his motivation for telling them is clear enough. Luthor's employee—whoever he is—betrayed him, and Bruce is sure that if he thought they'd take it, Luthor would be offering them additional incentives to put a bullet in the man's brain.

"Tell us what you want," Bruce says, folding his arms across his chest. He knows Luthor isn't going to give them a name or anything else without details.

"I'll be direct with you. I want to be placed back in a body. Ideally _my_ body. Kryptonian technology should be fully capable of cloning a human from a genetic sample, and then they could simply load me back into my body."

"Why would we do this, exactly?" Slade says. "We're the ones solving your murder. Why should you _also_ get a body out of it?"

"Because at least one of you is fundamentally a good person," Luthor says. "Leaving my true self comatose would seem to be a particularly awful plan."

Bruce taps his foot.

"...And if we only put _one_ of you in a body, you'll sabotage the effort."

"Correct," Luthor says without hesitation. "Either both myself _and_ The Eradicator are given bodies, or neither of us are."

Bruce is already running through the options. Even if it was a theoretical option, the fact is that Era can't be put back in a Kryptonian body. If he is, the risk remains that Luthor would end up in his place. There's no way to know _for sure_ who's going in which body, and the risks...

Bruce reaches up, rubbing at his temple.

"We'll work on it," Bruce says.

"I'm confident you will," Luthor says. "Extra incentive was also prepared for you. Assuming you return Lex Luthor to life, you will be informed of its location."

"An incentive," Slade says, unimpressed.

"I assure you it would be something you'd want."

"Excuse me if I don't have much faith in you knowing _what Bruce would want."_

"The terms remain the same regardless."

"I want to know who the killer was," Bones says. "We've wasted enough time here."

"Do we have a deal?" Luthor asks.

"You're in no position to ask us for anything more," Bruce points out. At the same time, he's not entirely sure he even sounds convincing. Luthor's deal is, realistically speaking, a good one. Assuming what he's said it's the truth—and the Kandorian's should be able to confirm it for them—then the deal comes out in their favor. They lose very little, with the only downside being that Luthor's alive again.

But alive and in police custody.

It doesn't resolve who ordered him killed, but it resolves almost everything else.

"...You have my word we'll act in good faith," Bruce says. Slade scowls, but he doesn't argue; no doubt he's come to the exact same conclusion Bruce has about the pros and cons of the situation.

"Excellent," Luthor says. "Now lets get down the business."


	26. Chapter 26

The killer turns out to be a man named Hannibal Bates, codename Everyman. Luthor—or more accurately, Luthor's AI—has a massive cache of information on him. While his physical description won't help, Luthor has his address, his known contacts, the exact details of his powers, and everything else they could conceivably want.

He was born in Gotham, but lived in New York City. He was hired because he fit a genetic profile. He suffered numerous side effects from the serum, but of all test subjects was the most stable. Most importantly, his ability to shapeshift is limited: he can only shapeshift to look like someone he's seen in person in the last few hours.

"Does he gain the powers of the person he shifts to?" Slade asks as they go over the details.

"No," Luthor confirms. There's a brief stutter, the image seeming to jerk in place, and he continues without commenting on it. "He is an ordinary human regardless of what he looks like. 

Bruce already, just from what they've been told, knows how to catch him. But the information being provided (and recorded, because Bones has brought out a recorder for just such an occasion) will no doubt be invaluable for putting him actually behind bars.

"None of this is going to help us find him," Bones points out. "Nor find out who ordered the killing."

Bruce is pretty sure that of everything, finding out who's behind the whole thing is Bone's number one priority. Bruce can't even blame him for it either: that's the part that's going to ruin _his_ day. He's sure the media is already starting to ask questions that no one's willing to answer. Questions like _how, exactly, did Lex Luthor get killed?_

"I have that handled," Bruce says. "Luthor's already given us the information we need."

He even has a backup plan, but considering that puts Hosun at risk, Bruce is hoping they don't have to use it. Bones looks baffled (or at least as baffled as he _can_ look, anyway), but Bruce doesn't offer to explain right then. The longer they're around Luthor's AI, the more apparently it is that they're running down the clock very, very quickly. The AI never said how long he'd have, but Bruce is now putting the estimates at a few hours at best.

They're given the information they need and then some. Luthor's perfectly happy to provide all sorts of information—primarily on Everyman himself—but Bruce doubts any of it is going to be particularly useful for them. For Bones, maybe, but not for _them._

"I have a request to make," Luthor says, hands clasped behind his back.

"Don't you think you've asked for enough?" Slade mutters, and Luthor simply ignores him.

"I am incapable of ending my own processing. While I will experience no pain, I will continue to degrade the longer I remain active. While I am not fundamentally the same person as the original Lex Luthor, it strikes me as a deeply undignified way to die."

Bruce doesn't like thinking about it in terms of _dying,_ but he sees the AIs point. He'll slowly fall apart until he's unable to speak or form the projection that they're looking at, degrading as the computer systems that make him up fail. It was always only a temporary venture, which strikes Bruce as a particularly callous endeavor. Luthor effectively made a clone of himself and then allowed it to suffer a horrible fate, just for his own ends.

No matter how much Luthor is helping them right then, Bruce won't let himself forget that Luthor isn't their ally.

"I see no reason not to put him out of his misery," Bruce says. "Forcing him to stick around won't help us in any way."

No one else has any objections either, so Bruce steps over to the computer and gets to work. It's easy to work out how to shut the system down, and he hesitates before actually pressing the button, turning to Luthor.

But not Luthor. The AI isn't Luthor, just a separate being that's now having to be put down because Luthor didn't think it was enough of a person to warrant being kept around.

"Thank you for your help," Bruce says and presses the button.

Luthor stares at him for a moment as the system begins to shutdown, and then finally speaks.

"Please take care of him."

And then, just like that, he's gone.

Bones wastes absolutely no time.

"I want to have the DEO taking this place apart as soon as possible," he says. "But I assume doing it immediately would risk tipping our target off to the fact that we're onto him."

"You have a plan, right?" Steve asks, looking to Bruce. "You _talked_ like you had a plan."

"I have a plan," Bruce confirms. "Think about what we know about Bates. He betrayed his boss—and the assignment he'd been given—for cash. Realistically, everything we know about him is that he's profit-driven above all else."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Slade mutters, and Bruce rolls his eyes without even looking at him.

"Ah," Bones says, the realization hitting him. "And he should still have the serum he was supposed to use on Luthor. If I were the sort of person who was willing to kill Luthor for money, I would probably also be the sort of person who would try and sell it."

"Exactly," Bruce says. "I bet if we look, we'll find someone selling an item that matches. Our alternative is to have J'onn disguise himself as Hosun and be publicly arrested, which would draw him out in an attempt to silence Hosun."

"The latter would be faster."

"The latter is also riskier. Bates is probably not a physical risk, but I'd rather be sure."

"I'm going to call Denali," Slade says. "I'll have him look around and see if he can't locate the sale for us, and then we can get down to business." He excuses himself without giving Bones a chance to argue.

"It would seem my hands are tied," Bones says. He sounds irritated, and Bruce can't blame him. "We can't do anything with the hacker without tipping Bates off, we can't handle this giant warehouse of incriminating information... To say the least, this is frustrating."

"Patience is key with things like this," Bruce points out. "All things considered, this has gone fairly quickly. We know who we're after and ways to find him."

"The most important thing is who hired him," Bones points out. "If we get everything else and don't get that, we've still failed."

"We'll still have brought a killer to justice."

"This is about more than just Justice, Mr. Wayne. This is about ensuring the entire political system doesn't collapse like a house of cards."

Bruce fights the urge to mutter something along the lines of _if it fell apart that easily, it obviously wasn't worth keeping around_ and opts to politely _hmmm_ instead.

Bruce is expecting to have to make small talk to fill the time, but within two minutes Slade comes walking right back in, whistling casually.

"Denali had actually called the house about an hour ago," Slade says. "Someone's going to be selling a piece of alien technology at an auction tonight. Last minute listing, expected to fetch a high price. Anytime anything like that goes up for sale, Denali tips me off and I get the League to take a look."

"So we go interrupt the auction?" Steve guesses.

"No. If we interrupt the auction, we lose that source of information. We send J'onn in to retrieve the information we need on how to contact the seller, then make him an offer we can't refuse. He has no reason to believe his cover is blown, so we imply a major player in the R&D game is willing to pay a lot for the serum. He shows up, we get him _and_ the serum."

"And—"

"And we confirm, while we're at it, who hired him. He should still have those details. Realistically speaking? They're probably on his phone. Bates has a major advantage with his shape-shifting, and he caught us off guard, but the fact is that he isn't very smart."

"So what's our plan, then?" Bones says. "I assume—"

"We're going home," Slade says simply. "This next part doesn't need us. Let J'onn and the League handle Bates. We've already given you everything you could reasonably need."

Bruce wants to be involved. He wants to help bring down Bates. But it's probably going to be a lot of listening and waiting and, realistically speaking?

He's probably smarter to go home. He needs to check on Jason. He needs to see how things are going there.

"Fine," Bones says. "Check in with our hacker. Let me know if he says anything."

"We'll pass on anything we get out of him," Bruce confirms.

It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours, but it feels like much longer. Bruce feels like they haven't stopped since they first found out Luthor was dead, and he's ready to spend some time with his family, even if it's only temporarily.


	27. Chapter 27

The trip home from Metropolis is easy. There are still plenty of news crews parked outside the entrance to the house (although there seem to be a lot less than there were before), so Steve instead takes them up to the Kents house, bypassing the worst of the media frenzy. Bruce and Slade skip past the house entirely (although Bruce is sure that Lois knows that they've gone by), heading back to the house without stopping.

By the time they make it there, Bruce is exhausted. He's only had a few hours of sleep, and he's jetlagged to hell and back. The fatigue feels like it's sunk into his very bones, and when the door pops open and half the family spills out onto the lawn Bruce is just happy to be home.

He lets himself be pulled into a hug by Jason while Damian attempts to scale Slade like a tree. Thad's there, already chattering away, but Will, Joey, and Alfred aren't.

"Down with the guest," Thad says when he catches Bruce looking.

Probably a fair place to be.

Bruce wants to sleep, but he _also_ wants to check-in, so he makes his way down to the cave. Hosun is out of his cell, talking quietly (and obviously nervously) with Joey as Will stands by. Joey's got the Kryptonian choker on, allowing him to speak more fluidly with Hosun, and Alfred isn't down in the cave at all.

"Everything alright down here?" Slade calls, and Hosun jerks upright, looking even more alarmed by the second.

"Just fine," Will says. "Joey and Hosun were just talking."

"And you were supervising," Bruce says. The instinct to lean down and kiss Will is pressing, but he has to ignore it. They have someone there with them, and Bruce doesn't doubt Hosun would be all too happy to tell someone about them in exchange for a lighter sentence.

"Bruce," Slade says, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go upstairs and get some sleep while you can? We have no idea when we're going to be wanted back."

"You should sleep too," Bruce points out.

"For the record," Will says, sounding extremely annoyed, "no one's filled us in on what's actually going on. We have bits and pieces and almost nothing that makes any sort of sense."

"Well I'm afraid you'll have to wait," Bruce says. "I'm exhausted and Slade's exhausted, and both of us need some sleep. We're not sure how long we're going to be here, although if we're lucky, we'll have a Clark Express to wherever we need to go next."

Bruce is putting his foot down. He's not dealing with multi-hour plane flights across the country when Clark could just carry them.

"Joey, can you..?" Will starts, and Joey nods immediately.

"I'll get him back in his cell," Joey confirms. He speaks it thanks to the choker, but he also signs it out of pure instinct.

"Alright," Will says. "I need to fill them in on what happened while they were gone."

He waits until they're all upstairs before he clarifies.

"You can get filled in after," Will says.

"I guessed," Bruce says. "Convenient excuse to come upstairs."

Even if they're just sleeping—and Bruce has absolutely no plans on doing anything else—having Will there as well feels nice. Bruce and Slade both speed through a shower, and Bruce crawls into bed with his hair still damp. It falls to Will to towel his hair a bit more to keep from soaking the pillow, but by that point Bruce is already nodding off, exhaustion taking priority.

Bruce wakes in the early hours of the morning, disturbed by the intense feeling that he's missed something. He can't decide if he figured it out in a dream or only _thought_ he figured it out in the dream, but the realization feels like a splinter, constantly drawing attention without allowing itself to be removed.

Something is wrong about their understanding of the situation.

He leaves Will and Slade behind in the room and ducks into his office, digging around through his supplies until he finds the small whiteboard he used in the hotel. He grabs a market and starts to do something that would probably kill Bones dead if he knew: he writes it all out.

He tries to put himself in Luthor's place, planning through things as Luthor would have. The first problem he runs into is that it's not clear where to start. All the way back with the Night of the Owls? Or more recently? After a few false starts, he works from Luthor's actions after he escaped from prison, scribbling them out line by line.

**GAINED ACCESS TO KRYPTONIAN WARSHIP  
** COPIED ERA TO MAKE LUTHOR-AI  
RELEASED INFORMATION TO PUBLIC 

He pauses, looking at the board, and then adds additional notes. The more he thinks, the more notes he adds, and ten minutes later he's able to put his finger on it.

Luthor doesn't always have a plan. Luthor always has _two_ plans. He's so alarmingly over-prepared that even Bruce himself, the _master_ of being over-prepared and planning ahead feels impressed. Even as Luthor released information, he was preparing a secondary plan, attempting to use Era as a weapon against them. But beyond that, he was also using Era's systems as a model to duplicate himself in the event he was killed.

No matter what time period he looks at, Luthor has several layers of plans backing him up. He prepares for the most likely scenario, and then makes backups.

But thinking about his escape from prison feels distinctly _off,_ which tells Bruce they've made the wrong assumption somewhere along the line.

Luthor specifically took actions that put him at risk of being caught. He would have known that prison was an option, and taken that into account. The entire plan to break them out confirms that.

But the plan feels flimsy by comparison. Hannibal Bates is, by every possible metric, not a good man. One look at his file all but confirms that, and Bruce has a hard time imagining that Luthor wouldn't have suspected that Bates would betray him.

Which begs the question of why he used him at all. Because he was the only available option for getting him out of jail? It feels like such a shitty, awful plan. It's a plan that requires Bates to not do the thing he's most—

Ah.

All of a sudden, Bruce understands. It's not that Luthor didn't see Bates's betrayal coming. It's that he _did._ Bates's actions were a part of the plan from the start, even if Bruce sincerely doubts that Bates had any idea.

The plan is convoluted and excessive, but Bruce supposes that _convoluted and excessive_ are Luthor's stock and trade. There's so many backups, so many alternatives. If any part of the original plan fails, there's something else ready to take its place. Even having figured (almost) the whole thing out, Bruce is sure there are other parts he's missing, and he can't be sure what the original _plan A_ was to begin with.

Even though it's four-thirty in the morning, Bruce calls Director Bones anyway. Or at least he goes to, stopping himself a moment before he actually hits dial.

Because the problem presenting itself is that even knowing the whole plan—even having figured (almost) all of it out—Bruce still doesn't see a way to stop it.

He ends up pacing the office for the next hour, circling around over and over as he tries to work out what he's missing. He manages to connect a few more pieces and work out the logic, but the fact remains: he doesn't know how to stop it.

"Bruce," Slade says. Bruce didn't hear the door open, but when he looks up, Slade's standing in the doorway, still dressed in only his underwear, with Will just behind him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I figured it out," Bruce blurts. "I figured out what Luthor's plan is, but I just... I can't figure out how to _stop_ it—"

"How long have you been _up?"_ Will asks, eyebrows raising. "You're acting... deranged."

"He does this," Slade says, throwing Bruce to the wolves. "It happens when he gets a lead and can't figure it out. He _hates_ not being able to figure it out. He's worse than Riddler."

"Nashton," Bruce corrects. "This is important, Slade." He's sure he sounds desperate, but right then he doesn't care. He's so _close._

"So what's the secret? What'd you figure out?" Slade asks. He leans against the wall, and Will folds his arms across his chest. He still only knows parts of it, which means Slade's probably he only one who's going to be able to completely follow.

"Luthor wanted to be killed," Bruce says. "This whole time we've been acting like Luthor's plan failed when Bates killed him. We've been assuming this wasn't even plan B, but plan X or Y. Who _plans_ to be killed? But we've been thinking about this wrong. Put yourself in Luthor's shoes: Luthor is facing life in prison. We're not a death penalty state, but with the charges against him, he'll never go free. Assume he escapes: what then? Then he's on the run. He's still on the run for the rest of his life, constantly having to hide who he is. Luthor is an egomaniac. He _wants_ to be known. He wants people to recognize his deeds. Having to be operating in secret is the exact opposite of what he'd want... so what he wanted wasn't to escape."

Slade and Will are looking at him with identically furrowed eyebrows as they try and work through the logic. Bruce recognizes that it's a bit of a leap, but he's also spent the last thirty-six hours digging through Luthor's thought process.

The old explanation doesn't make sense. Luthor would have very little to gain from escaping. If that was the plan, he'd simply have opted to arrange better circumstances _within_ the prison. He'd have offered to work for the government in exchange for increased comfort.

Which means that wasn't his plan.

"So what _is_ the plan?" Slade asks. "I'm not sure I'm following."

"Luthor escaping with Bates was plan B," Bruce says. "Bates killing him was plan A. Even if he told Bates that escaping was the plan, he was expecting Bates to kill him. In the cell, I thought he was facing away from Bates because he was being dramatic. I think he was facing away because he thought it would be easier."

"He wanted— Ah," Will says, the realization striking him. He's followed along pretty well, but Bruce supposes Will always _was_ smart. "Can a clone be charged with the crimes of the original?"

"Crap," Slade mutters. "That's what you meant."

It's exactly what Bruce meant.

"Lex Luthor served his sentence, life in prison. He died. The new version we'd be making with the help of Kandor isn't Lex Luthor—it's someone new. He already has a precedent. Will can't be held accountable for the crimes Slade committed, because they're separate people. The new Luthor would be under scrutiny, but... legally, I think the justice system would have a very hard time confining him."

"Easy to verify," Slade points out. "If that was the plan from the start, his will probably has a hold on it. The money's supposed to go to his _heirs,_ and that would inevitably include his identical clone. So all he has to do is tell the lawyer to wait a month or something like that."

"Probably has a clarification set up in the will that means the more related they are to him, the better. It's probably written in a very sneaky way, but a clone is probably get up to get the bulk of it... if not all of it."

Bruce is already going for the phone when Slade catches his wrist.

"It's not even six yet, Bruce," he reminds him. "They're not open."

Oh. He'd forgotten, too caught up in his excitement.

"You've also missed the important bit," Will says. "Assuming you're right, we know what Luthor's doing... but how are you going to stop it?"

Bruce opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He doesn't know is the only answer he can offer, and that seems sorely inadequate.

"Why don't you go to bed," Slade says, stepping forward to plant a hand on Bruce's back and guiding him forward. "You still need to sleep. We'll wake you if anything happens."

Bruce wants to protest, but the sleepiness is getting to him, and by the time his head hits the pillow he's dead to the world.


	28. Chapter 28

When Bruce wakes, he feels actually _alive_ for the first time in days. He speeds through a shower and gets dressed, heading downstairs but not quite making it to the kitchen. He runs into Will on his way down, who looks him over and then offers Bruce a mug of coffee.

"Drink this," he instructs. "Then come on down. Clark's in the kitchen. We're feeding him and then he was going to take you guys again."

"Did they catch the kill—"

Will holds up his hand, then points to the mug.

"Drink," he instructs. "Then come downstairs and get the explanation with everyone else."

Bruce drinks, draining the mug in one particularly long go, and then heads down to the kitchen.

Clark's looking chipper, still in his red-and-blues, and he's working through a plate of eggs and sausage when Bruce arrives. Will goes to grab Bruce a plate, but for the most part it looks like everyone else's already eaten if the stack of dirty dishes by the sink are any indication. He happily accepts the offered food, digging in as Clark gets down to business.

"We arrested the killer last night. By we, I mean technically Bones did, but I went along just in case."

It's probably better that Bones did the arresting, if only for sheer chain of command.

"And the people who hired him?" Slade asks.

"They were looking into that when I left. I promised I'd bring you back, since at a minimum, you both need to be debriefed. I also need to pick up Hosun now that he can be formally arrested. I understand he's going to turn himself in."

"How considerate of him," Alfred says dryly.

"You're not going to be able to carry all three of us," Bruce points out, and Clark grins.

"Already dealt with," he says. "I checked with Bones and the boys are going to help transport the two of you. Everyone's working out of DEO headquarters down in DC."

Bruce makes sure he's bundled up for the flight, letting Ren lift him under the armpits. Hosun gets the slightly more comfortable (and less dignified) princess carry with Clark, and Ore's got Slade with him.

They make good time on their way to DC, and thankfully Clark knows just where to go, because Bruce has no idea. He guides his kids down towards an unmarked office tower, and it's only once they're close up that Bruce can spot the security features there. It's clearly a very secure building, but with no obvious markings it's far more discrete than Bruce is used to when it comes to official government offices.

He'd have considered the Justice League's headquarters to be _discrete,_ and by comparison the building in front of them is downright invisible.

"Alright boys," Clark says. "I'll call if Bruce and Slade need transport back, but otherwise... go check in with everyone else, alright?"

"Got it!" Ren calls, already lifting off now that Bruce is safely on the ground. "See you dad!" The boys wave enthusiastically, taking off in short order.

"Alright," Clark says. "Lets go find Bones."

Of course it isn't nearly that easy. Bones is the director of the DEO, and even though the three of them are members of the Justice League, just getting in isn't that easy. In the end they get shuffled off to the side and told to wait while someone goes to check in, and it takes a solid thirty minutes before they're finally ushered upstairs.

"You'd think we'd have had priority access to you," Slade complains the moment they get into Bones's office. "Considering everything we just did..."

"I was busy," Bones snaps, his temper obvious. It takes a second, and then he reaches up, seeming to rub at his temple, apologetic. "I apologize," he says hastily. "Things have not been easy since we parted ways."

Clark makes a face, his worry obvious, and glances between Bruce and Slade as if expecting one of them to have the answer he's looking for.

"They don't know," Bones says, sinking back into his seat.

"I can guess," Bruce says. "By now you should know who put the hit out. That means you're now fully capable of having charges pressed against several government officials... and I assume you're getting push back."

Bones leans forward, shuffling his fingers through the pages on his desk, and then picks one out, setting it down and sliding it across the desk.

Bruce steps over, leaning down to look, and only needs to get two words in to realize what the issue is.

The name at the top of the page is the attorney general of the united states. Seventh in the line of succession for the presidential seat.

Oh.

"You have your work cut out for you," Bruce notes as Clark and Slade peek over his shoulders. Slade looks almost amused, while Clark goes white as a sheet.

"I've got six names, not three, because one of the contracts was a split—multiple people contributing to the pot. Four won't be an issue, one will probably fight it, but the attorney general is going to be... an issue."

"I can imagine," Clark says. "But... I know at the very least I'm willing to testify, and I'm sure Bruce and Slade...?" He glances between them.

"Willing," Bruce says.

"Willing," Slade agrees. "For what it's worth. Not sure how much my word counts right now."

"It counts more than you'd think," Bones says. "But I wanted to make sure you were kept in the loop. From this point on, it will largely be on me to handle things."

Bruce hesitates, weighing his options. Bones has been up front with them, and despite a few differences, seems like a fairly good guy.

Which means, realistically speaking, Bruce _has_ to tell him.

"There's one more complication," Bruce says, and Bones lets out a groan like he's just been stabbed.

"Alright," Bones says. "I'm ready."

He is most definitely not ready, but Bruce gives it a try anyway.

"Luthor planned to die. His entire plan hinged on Bates killing him. He's engineered things in such a way that in order for us to bring back Era— That's—"

"I know who Era is. The Eradicator," Bones says.

"In order to bring him back, we should also need to bring Luthor back to life."

"Then we'll just put him back in prison."

"Not that easy," Slade says. "Can you hold a clone liable for their originals crimes?"

Bones doesn't have visible lips, but Bruce is still absolutely sure that his are pressed together in a thin, unamused line.

"You can't bring him back," he finally says. "Things are going to be difficult enough as things are. If you reintroduce Luthor, the situation is only going to get worse."

"If bringing him back is the cost of getting Era back..."

"I don't have any ability to _order_ you not to. The League operates on its own terms in many ways, and you aren't my employee. But think about the consequences. Think about how things could play out, and the effects this could have on everyone else."

Bones is a convincing speaker, and if it was anything but the life of a family member hanging in the balance, Bruce knows he'd give in.

"I'm going to explore our options," Bruce says, picking his words carefully. He can't promise anything. "I promise I'll keep you up to date."

"With any luck you won't have to wait long," Clark says. "When Hal said he was on his—"

"When Hal _what?"_ Slade says, scowling in Clark's direction. Clark goes red, cheeks flushing as he squirms in place.

"Did... no one mention that?"

"No one did."

"Hal contacted us on Monday to let us know he was on his way, although it would take a few days. I imagine they'll be here sometime this weekend."

Bruce joins Slade in scowling at Clark. He _wants_ to know how anyone could have neglected to mention that, but he already knows the answer: Monday was the day that the district attorney announced he wasn't going to be trying to put Jason in jail.

They had other things to worry about.

"Just... keep me up to date," Bones says, sounding strained. "Don't do any interviews if people try and ask you things."

"Way ahead of you," Slade says. "We don't do interviews unless it's planned ahead of time."

"Keep it that way."

There's nothing else for them to do, so they say their goodbyes to director Bones and leave the building.

All Bruce can think as he leaves is a desperate hope that whatever happens, things work out in the end.


	29. Chapter 29

All Bruce wants—and boy does he want it _desperately_ —is some peace. He wants to be left alone with his family and those he cares about. He wants to not be bothered by any more crises or meltdowns or murders.

Visiting Thomas seems like a poor decision with all the scrutiny on them, so Bruce arranges for a short call instead. It's still a monitored line, so what they can say is limited, but he passes on the general idea anyway: everyone is fine. They'll pull through. Everyone's thinking of Thomas.

For once, it's not lip service: people _are_ thinking of Thomas, and there's a large amount of focus on him in the news reporting Bruce checks out. People have started really looking into Thomas's case, and the calls for him to be released seem to be picking up speed.

It's a good end to a period that's left Bruce feeling melancholy. Technically speaking, they've won: they figured out Luthor's plan, and they solved his murder.

But Era's still asleep—dead, assuming Luthor isn't lying out his ass—and the only way to get him back might very well involve bringing _Luthor_ back.

Bruce doesn't want that. Luthor's dangerous, and in a lot of ways his death feels like the direct result of his own arrogance. Bruce wants to believe that things are over, and bringing Luthor back all but guarantees that they're anything but.

If Luthor comes back it's never going to end.

Bruce dozes through the rest of the day, doing very little. There's no telling when Hal's going to arrive, so he wants to rest for what little time he has free, and everyone else is happy to oblige him. Alfred updates him on construction resuming, Thad brings him Jade to play with, and Will vanishes into his old bedroom to attempt to tame Dexter.

Tim and Barbara stop by with Jackson the following morning, and Bruce is happy to have some time with his only grandchild. Jackson is _full_ of energy, running around the new house at top speed, and Tim spends the bulk of his time making sure Jackson doesn't go into the unfinished areas.

"Bringing him probably wasn't the best idea I've had," Tim mutters, and Bruce scoops Jackson up, keeping him in place as Thad distracts him with Jade.

There are press conferences about the situation that they don't watch. Bruce isn't sure if someone else filled them in or if the information has simply become public enough that they've figured it out on their own, but when the conversation turns to what's happening, everyone seems to know what's going on.

"Did the amnesty get announced yet?" Bruce asks, interrupting the conversation.

"Not yet," Tim says. "But there's already talk about it. The president— Bruce, did you not bother to watch the _press conference about the case?"_

"Pretty sure he was asleep," Slade says with a snort. "He slept in for once."

Bruce hadn't even known there _was_ a press conference, but he supposes it doesn't really matter. He already knows everything they're reasonably going to say about it.

"I was taking it slow."

"You were taking it stopped," Will counters.

Bruce grumbles, but doesn't argue.

Bruce's phone goes off midway through dinner, and he's just about to answer it when Slade's _also_ goes off with a message, which means it's almost definitely League business. Bruce answers at the table, earning a disapproving look from Alfred.

"Diana," he says out loud so that everyone at the table knows who it is. "We're just in the middle of dinner."

"Hal's just coming down into DC with the Kandorians. The whole League should really be there for a formal meeting, so..."

Bruce sighs. He doesn't want to go, but he knows he should. If nothing else, it should help endear the Kandorians to them... and their cause.

"Alright," he says. "I'll get Clark to bring us down."

Bruce wants to stay, but he makes himself go get changed into something nice. He second guesses his choice of suit before going with one that's going to hold up for the flight, and then ends up pulling on a tighter jacket that's less likely to look ruffled. He says his goodbyes to Barbara, Tim, and Jackson, knowing they're not going to be there when they get back.

Clark (and Jon) are waiting for them when they make it downstairs, and Jon's all too excited to helpfully inform that he gets to go alone since he's the oldest.

Bruce is no longer bothered by flying in someone else's arms, even if the person flying him isn't even legally an adult yet. He knows Jon isn't going to drop him, and he trusts that even if he did, Jon would catch him in time. Flying with someone the way they are is uncomfortable, but it really isn't _that_ big a deal, and Bruce considers ten minutes of arm-flight discomfort to pale in comparison to having to deal with an actual commercial plane for more than an hour.

"Oh!" Clark calls as they start to descend into DC. "I can see them."

Jon tries to point them out to Bruce, but his vision isn't nearly good enough to actually see them. At best, as they descend in, he can see a small cluster of people gathered not far from the Washington monument, but considering there are plenty of other small groups of people near some of the cities largest tourist attractions, Bruce can't even be sure if it's the right group.

Hal's brought the Kandorians down in an open space for lack of a better place to start, and it's obvious to Bruce that everyone on the ground is scrambling to accomodate. There's guards attempting to shoo tourists back, a number of cars already on their way, and even though they were warned ahead of time that Kandor would be sending people it's also obvious they are absolutely _not_ prepared.

Bruce supposes that they too had other things to worry about.

"That's our aunt and uncle," Jon tells Bruce as he lands them not far from the monument. "The ones in red."

Not exactly helpful, since most of the party has _some_ amount of red on their clothes, but one of the ones speaking to what looks like a government official is wearing the same S symbol Clark is, which makes picking her out easy. There's a man standing beside her with the same symbol, and from how close they're standing Bruce is sure they're the ones.

"Alright," Clark chides. "You said you'd go straight home, so no dilly dallying."

"Got it!" Jon says, his eyes obviously focused on his aunt and uncle. "But if they want to come by the house, they can come, right? I wanted to show them—"

"Jon."

"Alright!" Jon says, throwing his hands up and then taking off, zipping back towards home.

Bruce makes note of the fact that none of the Kandorians are floating as he approaches. He wonders if Hal suggested they not, or if someone else did, but Clark mirrors the gesture, dropping down to the ground to approach on foot with Slade and Bruce alongside him.

"Kal!" The man at the head of the Kandorian procession says, turning and leaving his wife to continue the conversation. "We weren't sure if you'd be here."

He seems to be speaking in English, and Bruce recognizes a choker around his neck that's similar to the one Joey has. The technology is likely the same, just repurposed for translation instead.

"I should introduce myself," he adds, and then after an awkwardly long pause offers his hand for a handshake. "I am Zor-El. I'm here acting as the representative of Kandor's science council."

It's an awful lot Bruce isn't really following, but he nods along, shaking Zor-El's hand as if he understands what the importance of the _science council_ is.

"Bruce Wayne-Wilson," he says. "I'm here with the Justice League."

"The team Kal is on!" Zor-El says excitedly. "He told us all about it. So you are the Bat-man?" The way he says it, there's an obvious pause in the middle, and Bruce can't help but feel that his enthusiasm is infectious.

"Slade Wilson-Wayne," Slade says. "Same team."

Zor-El looks to Clark for insight.

"This is the one where there's two of him?"

"This is the one from this dimension," Clark confirms with a smile. "The other one is probably waiting back at home, being annoyed that he was left out."

That _does_ sound like Will.

"He should have come!"

"This is an official diplomatic meeting," Clark says, and Bruce swears for a moment that Clark _almost_ calls him 'uncle'. "When this is over, you can come meet everyone up in Gotham."

"Not much of a meeting," Zor-El says. "But you might as well come over and talk to them."

Bruce can only imagine that the various career diplomats would rather they stay away, but it isn't as if they have much say in the matter. While humanity's dealt with a number of aliens, Bruce supposes that what's happening right then is technically first contact with an actual alien _species._ All the other alien's they've encountered haven't been trying to represent anyone but themselves, and most have been the last of their kind like J'onn or (up until that point) Clark himself.

"Officially this is little more than a meet and greet," one of the diplomats is saying as they approach. "It would be highly inappropriate for one country to represent all the nations of the world, after all..." There's an uncomfortable pause, and Bruce can see the poor man starting to panic. "Do you have the concept of... nations?"

"We understand the basic concept," Zor-El's wife is saying. "Historically, Kandor also had something similar."

"Alura!" Zor-El calls, gesturing behind him. "Kal's friends are here."

Bruce feels himself cringing even harder as Zor-El inserts them directly into the middle of the official's attempts at a formal greeting, and does what he can to mitigate it.

"I think the ambassador probably had something to say...?" Bruce asks, looking searching between those gathered until one of them steps forward.

What follows is an absolutely torturous display of diplomacy. It's obvious to Bruce (and probably to every other human there) that the ambassador's hands are tied in terms of how much he's allowed to do. No doubt the international community has already been downright enraged by how many advantages the country has just from having Clark land there, and while Bruce suspects that America would be entirely within their rights to deal with the Kandorian's directly (who seem far more interested in Clark and his family than the state of human affairs), he also knows that would be a horrible option diplomatically speaking.

So it's painfully obvious that everyone there wants to ask a lot of questions and get a ton of details, but instead they have to act politely like everything should wait until the Kandorian's meet everyone _else._

"There's a meeting at the UN in fifteen hours," a diplomat comments. "That's as complete a representative of human governance as is possible at that time, and—"

"We'll attend, of course," Zor's wife says matter of factly. "Is there anything else that needs to be done before that?"

The man stutters a moment, and then catches himself.

"Not at this time, no, but if you'd like—"

The poor man is standing between the El's and their great-nephews, and it's becoming more painfully obvious by the second that the entire trip was about visiting Clark first and diplomacy in a distant, far-off second.

"Excellent," she says, interrupting again. "Kal, shall we speak?"

She lifts off the ground, and whatever attempt at politeness they'd been trying goes out the window.

Clark shoots Bruce an apologetic glance, mouths _I'll talk to them,_ and then goes after them, leaving Bruce, Slade, and everyone else on the ground.

"...Are the rest of the League even coming?" Bruce mutters, largely to himself.

"They're on their way to New York for the UN meeting," Slade says, taking the question as an actual question rather than Bruce griping to himself about being left alone again. "Since they don't have the Kent express like we do."

Diana absolutely _could_ have gotten one of Clark's boys to pick her up, but she's never seemed quite as comfortable with it as they have, so he supposes Diana driving over to New York is the lesser of two evils.

Even if it means it's back to being just him and Slade again.

Bruce cranes his neck back, staring up at Clark where he hovers in the sky, speaking with the other Kandorians. It strikes Bruce then how strange the sight must be for anyone else, but he's grown all too used to it. Everyone's already starting to dissipate, and many are obviously disappointed.

They end up waiting around ten minutes before Clark drops back down, looking deeply apologetic at having left them there so long.

"Sorry," he says, obviously mindful of the fact that the Kandorians above could easily overhear. "We just had to discuss some details. I explained everything about Era to them, and Zor-El agreed to take a look. He's here representing—"

"The science council," Slade cuts in. "We heard. He at least did introductions, even if we didn't get an explanation of what that meant."

Bruce can guess. He's pretty sure the fact that the science council is in charge of scientific advancement doesn't take a genius to figure out.

"I can explain on the way, if you'd like," Clark says. "I already sent Jon home, so..."

"We can double up," Slade says before Bruce can offer another solution. "I'll carry Bruce, and you can carry me."

Which is the exact moment that the Kandorians opt to drop down, floating just above the ground as they join the conversation.

"Have you not devised a carrier yet?" Zor-El asks. He doesn't seem to mean it as an insult, but he _does_ seem very confused.

"We don't fly often," Clark says. "Carrying someone isn't a big deal."

"Nonsense," Zor-El's wife says. She reaches into her robes, rifling around until she produces a small disk not much larger than a CD, which she twists in her hands. The moment she does, it pops open to a size that seems _much_ too large for how small it was originally.

The final shape reminds Bruce a great deal of a ski lift, only a bit more rounded. There's a handle at the top for the lift to be picked up, but it looks relatively sturdy.

"...We need to get one of those," Slade mutters under his breath.

"We'll leave it behind," she says matter of factly. "It will be a tight fit, but I'm sure the two of you can fit."

They can, but only jammed together, and Clark mutters to himself about the fact that it _is_ sort of easier to carry them that way as they finally lift off.

Bruce agrees, but he keeps it to himself.


	30. Chapter 30

The air is bitterly cold by the time they can see the ship, and the jacket Bruce brought for flying simply isn't cutting it. He curls closer to Slade, who's obviously less bothered by the weather, and hopes it'll be over soon.

He's expecting for them to land, disembark, and then board. There's still an ARGUS team camped near the ship's side, taking advantage of the size for shelter, but the Kandorians skip past it entirely. They descend into the ship from the top, a hatch opening automatically for reasons Bruce can't figure out, and once they're all inside—landing in what looks like a launch bay—the hatch closes again, the temperature normalizing as Zor-El shows Clark how to put away the carrier.

It's the first and most obvious sign that things aren't going to go the way Bruce expects, because the Kandorians start talking animatedly with each other. He doesn't understand a thing they're saying, but Clark's there to mitigate things, clearing his throat loudly and drawing their attention.

"Bruce, maybe you could explain the situation for them? I could really only give them the general idea."

Bruce feels like he's on stage at a major business conference, only he knows he'd probably feel more comfortable there. He expected the Kandorians to be much like Clark, but the longer he stays with them, the more obvious it is to him that they aren't. Only Clark's aunt and uncle have spoken to him at all, and even Zor-El, the friendliest by far, constantly refers to him as _Kal._

Maybe he shouldn't be bothered on Clark's behalf, but he sort of is.

"A human criminal gained access to the ship recently," Bruce explains, trying to keep things brief. "He used it to hijack control of Era—"

"The Eradicator unit, yes?" Clark's aunt asks, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes," he confirms. "He was unable to get full control. According to what he said, Era would have degraded within a few years at most, so instead he... backed him up and disabled Era's body. According to him, Era's body was... wiped. His mind is empty, since it's no longer in use. He also backed _himself_ up. Ideally, we'd like to restore Era's backup into a physical body, but Luthor—the criminal in question—claims he set things up so that we wouldn't be able to restore just Era and not him."

Clark's aunt turns to her husband, speaking in rapid-fire Kryptonian, and Bruce swears he's going to get Thad to teach him because _not_ knowing is driving him bonkers.

"We can look into this for you," Zor-El says after a moment. "It shouldn't be difficult to inspect the backups. We also need to assess the ship. Dru-Zod's engineering team would have been members of the military guild, not the science guild, and their ability to keep the ship running long term is... suspect at best."

"Shoddy workmanship," his wife agrees.

Bruce is tired of thinking of her as _Zor-El's wife,_ so he clears his throat and offers his hand to her.

"I don't think we did introductions," he says. "I'm Bruce Wayne-Wilson. This is my husband, Slade Wilson-Wayne."

She stares down at the hand as if she has to genuinely think about whether or not she wants to shake it, and then finally raises her hand, giving Bruce the weakest handshake he's ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

"I am Alura In-Ze."

Which brings up a lot of questions about Kryptonian naming structures, but Bruce supposes right then isn't the time. The Kandorians are already leaving, heading deeper into the ship, and Bruce goes after them with Slade in tow, wishing he'd questioned Will more about the ship's structure. It's unfamiliar to him, and he has to guess as to the function of most things, but when they make it to the command room that, at least, is fairly obvious. There's a large chair in the center, which Alura In-Ze sits in, and the rest of the Kandorians proceed to almost automatically take seats around the room. Bruce guesses they're probably all tied to some specific job, but he can't understand how they knew which place to sit unless everything is standardized.

Alura In-Ze is doing _something._ Her hands are gesturing in the air, tapping and manipulating menus that Bruce can't see from his position, and she talks in clipped Kryptonian to the others, who respond back in turn. Clark does what he can to interpret, but his understanding is obviously limited.

"The ship is... not damaged, but in a state of disrepair, I would guess," he says. "Kryptonian culture is heavily based on what guild you're a supposed to be a part of, whether military, science, arts, or labor. Zod was part of the military guild, so almost all of his followers were as well. They had one stray labor member, but other than that, not a lot of variation. Kandor's council is lead by Alura In-Ze, who used to be representing the science guild, and then the others are representatives of the different councils."

Clark hesitates for a moment, and then continues without lowering his voice. "From what I understand, the labor guild didn't have a spot on the council before, but it became necessary when Kandor was cut off, since they had to make do without trade. Kandor used to be a major trade hub for the planet."

"Before the planet was destroyed, yes," Alura In-Ze says, standing up from her seat. "I should have known Dru-Zod would have left the ship in such a poor state. With no scientists on board, there was no one to ensure that the ships systems operated at peak capacity. He pushed the ship to its limits, and it will need more time to fully recover. We can see to repairs on New Krypton."

"You're taking the ship?" Slade asks before Bruce can.

"Yes," Alura In-Ze says, and Bruce experiences a moment of panic. Does anyone _else_ know they're taking the ship?

The panic must show on his face, because Clark clears his throat and clarifies.

"Part of diplomatic relations was the offer of returning the ship," he explains. "It's been a major legal disaster, since every other country is angry the US is hogging it. So when Kandor requested it back... well, everyone else supported the US returning it."

More than anything, Bruce is surprised the US agreed... but then he supposes they _do_ already have other things from on board.

"Well," Bruce says, voice a bit strained. "That's good. But about Era...? Thad is very concerned for him." If even half of what he's been told is true, the Kandorians are _very_ eager to see more of Thad.

"Come with me to the central core."

Without any sort of explanation she starts to head out of the room, and Bruce goes after her, wondering what the hell that means. Clark and Slade stay behind, speaking with Zor-El and leaving what's happening with Era to Bruce.

He doesn't have long to wait. They descend down a level (or at least _about_ a level, since the ship doesn't use any layout Bruce is familiar with) and approach what appears to be the dead center of the ship. It does't appear to be the storage room Will mentioned, but something else entirely: a massive glowing crystal dominates the center of the room, and it takes Bruce a second to understand what he's looking at.

"Is that... the ship's core?"

"That would be the primary crystal the ship was grown from, yes," Alura In-Ze says. She strides forward, working her way around the edge of the crystal until she finds what she's looking for. She reaches out, plucking a thin crystal from the structure, which comes away easily, and then holds it out for Bruce.

Bruce stares at it in confusion, then reaches out to take it and very nearly drops the damn thing. It's maybe two inches wide and seven inches long—smaller than his hand by far—but it has to weigh fifty pounds, and he was _not_ prepared. He only juts manages to catch himself, holding it in two hands to keep himself from tipping over, and then looks up at Alura In-Ze for an explanation.

She doesn't provide one, so Bruce is forced to prompt her.

"This is...?"

"The Eradicator you requested, as restored from backup."

Bruce makes a noise.

"I was hoping something more... ah, body-shaped."

Alura In-Ze rolls her eyes, an apparently universal gesture as she points to the crystal.

"Their entire self is stored in the crystal. Right now they are still settling in, and lacks appropriate charge. Ensure they get appropriate sunlight, and they'll be able to generate a body that is more to your tastes."

Bruce makes another noise. He has no idea what the hell he's doing, and Alura In-Ze isn't helping things. She's not really _explaining,_ just giving him the utter basics as far as answers go and letting him figure things out for himself.

"And Luthor...?"

"His protections were rudimentary attempts to re-purpose the ships systems in order to prevent the Eradicator's backup from being processed until his backup had been handled. It was easy to overwrite them and allow the Eradicator's backup to be processed once again."

"...What's going to happen to Luthor's backup?"

"I could produce a second crystal if you would like," she says. "As it stands, he will simply be overwritten when the space is needed."

Bruce doesn't know how he feels about that at all. For all the trouble Luthor's put them through, it still feels a lot like murder.

"Is he... alive? Awake?"

Alura In-Ze stops to consider the question before answering.

"He is... like one of your photographs," she explains, and while it's not a perfect metaphor, Bruce understands what she's getting at. "A hyper-realistic replica of what existed. He is not alive, and is not conscious. He won't be unless processed. For the Eradicator, for example, their memories will jump from when they were turned off until now."

Bruce makes an alarmed noise, staring down at the crystal.

"Hold on," he says desperately. "Era is... alive in this? Right now?"

"Even when not projecting, the Eradicator is conscious, yes."

Oh. Bruce pauses, then pats the side of the crystal. He can only imagine that Era must be confused, or even frightened (not that Era's ever been frightened before), so he does what he can to hopefully calm him.

"Everyone's just fine," he says. "We're going to get you home and... let you charge with sunlight. Then you can see Thad again."

Era doesn't respond, but then he's a crystal without any actual way to do so. Alura In-Ze looks at him like he's crazy, and Bruce settles for cradling the crystal to his chest.

"Thank you," he says, because it needs to be said even if she doesn't seem terribly interested in his thank you. She's already leaving the room, heading up the command room, her work apparently done.

Bruce _really_ can't wait to have to explain this to the rest of the family.


	31. Chapter 31

Slade gives him a funny look when Bruce returns to the command room, Era's crystal cradled in his arms, and Bruce shoots him a look that Slade knows means _I'll explain later._ The Kandorians are in the midst of some very serious discussion when they return, with Clark and Slade standing off to the side.

Zor-El looks up from the conversation, glancing towards his wife, and then his face lights up.

"Are we finished? Can we go visit Kal's family now?"

"I believe we are finished," Alura In-Ze says. "At the very least I have nothing else that must be done here. It would be best that we spend the remainder of our free time visiting with Kal."

"You got everything done?" Clark asks with a pointed look towards the crystal in Bruce's arms.

"Everything's resolved," Bruce says. "I'll fill you in later." Probably when he actually knows what the hell's going on. Right then he's not entirely convinced that he'd be able to explain things, in part because he's not entirely sure himself.

"Why don't I drop the two of you at home then," Clark says. "I assume you don't want a small legion of Kryptonians stomping around your yard." He gives them a sympathetic look, and Bruce is all too happy to agree. He doesn't let go of the crystal, earning him a variety of concerned looks, but Bruce simply keeps to himself as the carrier is brought back out and the two of them are loaded up.

He's already devising strategies in his head for how to explain things to Thad. They haven't told him that Era's body is technically sort of dead, and Bruce doesn't really want to be the one who has to, either.

But he's going to have to. It's pretty much a fundamental part of the explanation for why Era's now a crystal.

It seems like no time at all before they're descending into Gotham with Clark at the head of the procession. He stops to direct the others towards his house, but quickly drops down towards Wayne Manor. It's dark outside, a fact which weighs on Bruce more than he wants to admit in light of Era needing _sunlight,_ and he's sure he looks even more worried than usual when they finally disembark.

"Are you going to the meeting in the morning?" Clark asks, and Bruce hesitates before answering.

"I'll talk to Diana," he says. "I was planning too, but we'll see how things are."

Clark's never been half as oblivious as he sometimes pretends, and he gives the crystal a pointed look before clearing his throat.

"Is that... Era?"

Bruce nods, and Clark swallows.

"Well, I'm sure you'll... figure this out, given some time. You always do."

"We always do," Slade confirms. He's staring at the crystal cradled in Bruce's arms as well, eyebrows furrowed as if he isn't quite sure what to make of it.

"We'll see you later Clark," Bruce says. "Have fun introducing your poor parents to the Kandorians..."

Clark winces and excuses himself to go mitigate whatever disaster is happening back at his house, and Bruce turns and heads up towards his own impending disaster.

The family isn't waiting for them, but when they enter the house there's no way they'll go unnoticed. Thad zips down the stairs, excitement on his face, but the moment he registers that it's just the two of them his face falls.

"It's alright," Bruce blurts, every carefully concocted explanation for the situation being shelved in the face of Thad's misery. "Everything worked out. Era's just fine."

"He's okay?" Thad asks. Bruce can hear everyone else starting to come down the stairs. "Is he coming home tonight?"

Slade looks at Bruce and shrugs, leaving it to him to explain. Bruce isn't sure how he's going to explain, but he knows he has to right then, because if not Thad's going to be upset.

But he can at least wait a minute or two.

"Why don't we wait for everyone else to come down," Bruce says. "Then I can explain to everyone at once."

Thad notices the crystal in Bruce's arms, staring at it pointedly as he waits for an explanation.

Bruce does make him wait though, even if Thad's making sad eyes in his direction. It doesn't take all that long for everyone else to arrive, even if the hour is quite late. They gather around, and Bruce finds himself on the receiving end of a _lot_ of weird looks.

"I should start by saying that we haven't been entirely upfront about Era's situation," Bruce says, mentally digging up his notes now that he's a bit more composed. "Before I say anything else, I should say that Era is fine now. Unfortunately, he wasn't before—his Kryptonian body was never intended for long term use, and would have expired within a few years at the most."

Thad looks crestfallen even _with_ the reassurance that Era is fine. Bruce can only imagine how he'd have reacted in the event he'd heard it from Luthor.

"Luthor basically downloaded Era back into the ship, placing him into a backup, and then made a copy of himself. His plan was that when we got Era a new body, we'd have to get one too, allowing him to be a new person and arguing that since he _was_ a new person, a clone couldn't be held accountable for anything his original did. Thankfully, the Kandorians were able to work around the little trap he'd set up for us, avoiding an accidental Luthor cloning, and then made us this."

Bruce hefts the crystal, well aware that everyone's looking at it.

"...He's a crystal?" Thad asks, his reaction mixed.

"He is, ah..." Bruce stares down at the crystal, struggling to explain something he barely understands. "Low on energy. He needs a solar charge, and when he has that he'll be able to... generate a body from the crystal."

Bruce is getting a lot of blank looks.

"They didn't really explain it," he admits. "I just know he's solar charged and that apparently he'll end up with a body at some point."

"A human body?" Jason asks.

"A human body," Bruce confirms, before hesitating a moment later. "As far as I've been told, anyway."

"But he needs sun," Thad says, glancing towards the window. "It's already too late..."

"I believe we have some UV lamps in the cave," Alfred suggests. "I am unsure if that would be sufficient, but they _were_ intended to simulate sunlight and may be enough."

Thad zips up to Bruce, holding up his hands to take Era, and Bruce keeps a careful hold.

"He's heavy," Bruce says. "Very... very heavy. From what they said he's at least partially awake in there, so... just... be careful."

He looks up at Will and gives the most desperate _please help_ he can muster. Will catches on, sliding forward and reaching out to take Era on Thad's behalf. He handles the unexpected weight better than Bruce did, but does make a surprised grunt as he takes it.

"Why don't we head downstairs and get those lamps set up," Will says, bringing the crystal closer to his body. He's being careful with it, which is good, but Bruce is still a bit nervous about letting it out of his sight.

"Are we going to that meeting?" Slade asks, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce wants to say no. He really, really does. But right then going to the meeting and being nice and respectable in public is the best thing they can do.

"We should," Bruce says. "We need to start getting things back to normal. Going back to work. Attending class..."

He looks directly at Thad, who stares up at him with an absolutely horrified look.

"I can't go to school with Era like this!" He protests. "If I was sick he'd stay home and take care of me!"

Bruce doesn't point out that Era _always_ stays home because he doesn't have a job. He knows what Thad's getting at, and is only saved from having to come up with a response when Will reaches down, resting a hand on Thad's shoulder.

"Why don't we revisit this in the morning? Maybe the lamps will help wake him up before then, and he can see you off to school in the morning."

"I'm going to head to bed," Jason says. "Was actually just going to bed before I heard you were back."

Joey leans against Jason's shoulder, obviously planning to do the same.

Bruce ends up in bed not thirty minutes later, making a point to make sure Alfred found the lamps properly. Will and Thad are sleeping down in the cave, keeping an eye on Era's crystal, which means its just him and Slade that night.

"...You think Era's going to be okay?" Bruce asks, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to get to sleep.

"He'll be just fine," Slade mumbles, throwing his arm over Bruce's chest and pulling him in closer. "Go to sleep. We've got politics in the morning."

It takes a long time before Bruce finally drifts off to sleep.


	32. Chapter 32

Bruce does end up going to the meeting the next morning. Era still hasn't woken up, but it's unclear if it's because of the UV lamps not being the right kind, or because he simply hasn't had enough time to charge. The moment the sun's up, Thad and Will head out onto the back lawn with Era in tow, setting up like they're getting ready for a picnic.

Will doesn't seem interested in arguing with Thad about going to school, and Bruce can't blame him. He wouldn't want to force Thad to school anyway, not with how obviously worried he is about Era.

The meetings in New York, and he and Slade are given visitors passes. Outside of Gotham, people are obviously more wary of them, but no one voices their concerns in an audible way. Instead they simply watch them extra carefully, and when they wind up seeing nothing out of the ordinary, come to their own conclusions about what they've heard about the League. Once through security, Bruce and Slade have a little bit with the rest of the League to catch up. Roy won't stop talking about Bart to anyone who'll listen, but in general most of the conversation is about how the family is doing, with several people asking after Jason and mentioning the interview they saw.

They don't have long to talk though, because the meeting gets started not long after they arrive.

The Kandorians are curt as ever, but not entirely unfriendly. Bruce's earlier thought process about them coming primarily to visit Clark and get their ship turns out to be right, and they make little secret that they want the ship. They call it all but lost technology, with Krypton having abandoned spaceflight save for a few set ships, and discuss plans for taking to the stars openly, as if such a possibility wouldn't terrify the average person.

They strike Bruce as haughty, but he sets the feeling aside. He supposes that no matter who he feels about it, the fact is that the Kryptonian's technology is long past theirs. It's not even comparable, really, and it's a small wonder they didn't just come down and _take_ the ship. The fact that they're bothering with diplomacy has more to do with Clark than anything else, Bruce knows, but he appreciates that they didn't anyway.

The representative of the US lets them have the ship to _encourage positive future relations between our worlds_ and everyone smiles politely like they don't know that the entire US military would be nothing next to ten Kryptonians.

On the plane flight back home, Clark comes along, even though he could just fly over anytime he wanted.

"They aren't that bad," he insists. "They're just... Well, I'm not going to pretend like they don't see humans as a less advanced species, because they do. But I think what matters is that they're open to being wrong, and they're willing to... correct their assumptions."

"They _are_ more advanced," Slade says, leaning back in his seat. "Their technology is better than ours by a mile. The problem is they went too far—they took a left where they should have taken a right and now they've got all sorts of weird hangups."

Bruce doesn't disagree. Kryptonian culture seems oddly sterile from what he's seen of it, and he suspects it would be _worse_ than he thought if he had more time to learn about it.

"They're just different," Diana says. "But now that we've established diplomatic connections with them, I imagine we'll see more... cultural sharing."

Bruce hopes so.

They land and head straight for the manor. There's no outstanding phonecall, so Bruce isn't surprised to see Will, Thad, and Joey still out back. Joey looks like he's writing or maybe sketching from a distance, and Bruce exchanges a quick glance with Slade, who shrugs.

"You check on them, I'll check on everyone else?" He asks. There's a single construction crew back to work, and it's there that Slade heads towards, going to find Alfred as Bruce heads out back onto the lawn.

"Any change?" He calls, and Will and Thad turn to look towards him. Joey doesn't, his entire body hunched over his sketchbook as he sketches out whatever he's drawing.

"He's... lighter. We think he's lifting his own weight at least partially," Will says, and Bruce looks pointedly at the crystal that's been set up with a reflective tanning board to give him even _more_ light.

"Do I want to know where you got that?"

"Nope."

Bruce lets it go.

He ends up spending a decent portion of the afternoon out on the lawn with them. Alfred arrives with food just before what Bruce would normally consider dinner, and its then that he announces the good news.

"There's been formal discussion of amnesty for those who are operating as vigilantes," Alfred says. "I imagine it won't be long now."

Bruce hopes it isn't.

They're midway through eating when the crystal finally seems to pulse, and Bruce scrambles backwards as Thad shoots forward. Will reaches forward, grabbing Thad by the collar of his shirt and pulling him away as the crystal starts to change. It glows—all that sunlight seems to be put to use all at once—and seems to _expand._ The glow gets so bright Bruce has to look away, and when it fades, he looks back to find Era standing there.

Mercifully, he isn't naked, but he is wearing what looks like a skin tight bodysuit, not unlike what the Kandorians were wearing under their mantles and robes. If Bruce didn't know better, he'd assume that Era had just been returned to them in the flesh, but he knows it's a hologram.

Or at least he knows it's a hologram until Thad shoots forward, tackling Era into a hug. The hug actually _works,_ and Era seems perfectly solid as he reaches down, patting Thad's head.

"You're back!" Thad says, tears in his eyes as he buries his face against Era's side.

"Correct," Era says. "I have been restored to a predominantly physical form."

"Which means?" Will asks.

"He's... generated from the crystal?" Bruce guesses, and Era nods automatically.

"I am a hard-light projection," he confirms. "I no longer require any sleep or physical sustenance, although I do require an adequate amount of sunlight in order to maintain this form."

"Did the solar lamp help?"

"It did, but not as well as true sunlight."

Bruce makes a note of that, and suddenly he's very thankful he decided to put a balcony on every bedroom. Even if Era no longer needs a bed, he can go and sit on the balcony to charge if necessary.

Or maybe, if they want him to be as diurnal as possible, set up solar lamps in his room so he can charge at night?

Bruce is weighing the pros and cons when the rest of the family comes down across the lawn. One of them has obviously seen Era and let everyone else know, because they all come together as a pack.

"Era!" Jason calls. "Good to see you back."

Era isn't quite back, Bruce supposes, but he also supposes it doesn't matter. What matters is that he's back enough for _them,_ and that he's happy with what he has. Nothing else really factors in.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains sexual content.

That night, Bruce feels like everything's finally going back to normal. Dick promises to visit. Damian talks about Siracca coming up to visit, since Diana has to come talk to Clark. There's news, but the worst of it is over: the average person seems to support them, and the responses he sees to Jason's situation are sympathy, not outrage.

With Era safely back (and tasked with setting up the cave under the glare of the solar lamps, since he doesn't sleep anymore), the family feels almost whole again.

They still need Thomas, but Bruce knows that isn't going to happen overnight. What matters is that it's happening at all.

That night feels like the first time in a while that both Will and Slade have been there, and while Bruce _knows_ it's really only been a few days, it feels like so much longer. It feels like a real, genuine relief to crawl into bed, but of course neither Slade nor Will is actually interested in letting him get some sleep.

"You know," Will says, wrapping his arm around Bruce's waist, "you never did cash that raincheck."

Bruce has absolutely no idea what he's talking about, and the blank, confused look he's giving Will seems to clue him in.

"Sex," Will clarifies. "We never ended up actually ended up having sex."

Oh. Bruce hadn't _forgotten,_ but he certainly hadn't been thinking about it either. He'd simply had other things on his mind.

"He'd forget his own dick if it wasn't attached," Slade laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of Bruce's neck.

"I'd leave it at home where it wouldn't bother me," Bruce mutters, and Slade winks at him (as much as he's able to, anyway) and reaches down, pressing the palm of his hand to Bruce's crotch.

"And you think I wouldn't take advantage of that little perk, Bruce...?"

Alright, that's fair.

"Wasn't the raincheck supposed to be about Will?" Bruce asks, and Slade huffs a bit before deftly rolling over Will to put him in the center, sandwiched between the two of them.

Will is, for once, relatively silent. Bruce figures he's almost uncomfortable with the attention suddenly being on him, and while Bruce can't _see_ what Slade's doing, he can tell just by the movement of the sheets that Slade's giving Will plenty of attention. Will's mouth cracks open and he makes a breathy little gasp, and that's all it takes for Bruce to lose whatever self control he had. He leans forward, hands dropping down to grab Will's hips, and pulls him in closer as he leans up to kiss him.

Will is, as always, soft. Soft lips, soft skin. Bruce doesn't think he's ever going to get used to it, but then he supposes that Will _won't_ be soft forever. With Slade's brand of regeneration, Will will start building up callouses. His skin will collect scars.

He won't look so damn _young._

Bruce kisses him again, trying to focus on the moment. Trying not to think about what Will might look like in ten years. Is he going to look more like Slade? Or is he going to look like something else entirely?

"Bruce," Will says quietly. "I practiced."

_Practiced._

Will jerks forward with a high pitched whine, and Slade chuckles, low and deep.

"He's still sensitive," Slade tells him, dragging his teeth along the side of Will's neck just to watch him squirm.

"So sue me, I'm sensitive," Will mutters, and Bruce finds himself laughing just at the image of it: of Will being so _annoyed_ because Slade's called him out for being as inexperienced as he is.

Will's obviously not used to being in that position: of being the one who _doesn't know._ Who's lacking in experience.

"Who do you want?" Slade asks, and they both know what he means. It's a choice: Slade or Bruce?

"Bruce," he says without pausing. "He'll be gentler."

"You're wrong, but too late to take that choice back," Slade says, biting just hard enough for Will to really _feel_ it, but not hard enough to break the skin.

A bottle of lube comes out and the three of them flip around. Will ends up lying back, Slade's chest pressed against his back, his arms around Will, keeping him upright. Bruce ends up between his legs, enjoying the view for everything its worth. Somewhere along the way their underwear gets lost, dropped into a pile beside the bed, and Bruce almost wants to just stay there, watching, just for the hell of it.

Watching the way Slade supports Will. The way he showers him in attention, easing his obvious nerves. The way Will is even willing to _try_ what they're doing, despite the fact that it's outside his comfort zone.

"It'll feel a bit uncomfortable," Bruce reminds him. "But if it hurts, or you want to stop—and that's for _any_ reason—you just let me know, alright?"

Will won't stop, he already knows. Will will force himself through it to prove he can, because that's the sort of person he is. Which means it's on the two of them to watch him that much more closely and make sure he's enjoying it as much as they are.

Bruce liberally applies lube to his fingers and gets to work. Pressing a single finger isn't particularly difficult with Slade there to help calm Will down, and Bruce watches Will's face closely as he works the finger in and out before graduating to a second. There's no question in his mind that Will _has_ practiced, which helps primarily by making sure he doesn't clench up at the first odd feeling.

"You're doing well," Slade says, doing what he can to reassure Will. "Relaxing just right to let Bruce in."

"Shut up," Will hisses, his breath already starting to stutter. Slade just laughs, kissing at the back of his neck, feather light as Bruce scissors his fingers, working them in and out and then seeing how deep they can go.

Pretty deep, is the answer. He works his way in as far as his fingers will go, and then withdraws them to add a third. The third is where he faces _real_ resistance, and he carefully applies more lube, making sure it's not too much.

"Bruce," Will hisses. "Get on with it."

From his position Bruce can see the muscles in Will's legs flex even before he moves them, so he stops moving entirely as Will hooks his feet behind Bruce's back, digging his heel in to try and make Bruce move forward.

"You're not ready," Bruce says. "It'll hurt if I push in now."

"Do it anyway," Will says. "I can handle some pain."

"He doesn't want you in pain, you big idiot," Slade says. "Just sit there and let Bruce do his work."

Will grumbles, but he lets Bruce do his work.

Bruce is up to four and largely content with the degree he's worked Will open when Will finally loses his patience. He digs his heel in harder, scowling up at Bruce, and reaches down to start jerking himself off.

"If you guys aren't going to do it, I guess I have to."

Slade, of course, isn't having that. His own hands go down, catching Will by the wrist and jerking his hands up.

"No touching," he chides, pinning Will. It's almost funny, because there's no question Will could break free, but he lets Slade pull his hands away anyway, his point made.

So Bruce makes sure Will knows that he's gotten the point. He reaches down, applying some lube to himself with his free hand, and then withdraws his fingers, leaving Will's hole twitching and empty. The noise Will makes is _deeply_ satisfying, frustrated and turned on all at once, and the way he rocks his hips up, seeking stimulation he can't have, is a _very_ pretty picture. It's enough to make Bruce finally move forward, pressing the head of his cock to Will's hole.

Bruce has been hard for longer than he wants to admit, but right then is the first time he's allowing himself to really _indulge._

"You ready...?" He makes himself ask, and Will looks like he's strongly considering breaking Slade's hold.

"I've been ready for ten minutes, Bruce. If you don't put it in—"

Bruce doesn't get to find out what Will had in mind, because he takes that as his excuse to push in.

It's not one long, smooth thrust. Will's too inexperienced for that, and he squeezes down the moment Bruce starts to apply pressure. Slade has to distract him before he relaxes, letting the head of Bruce's cock finally pop in, and from there it's much easier going. Bruce works his way in with short, shallow thrusts, watching the way Will's face twitches. His head's tipped back, resting against Slade's shoulder, and he's biting at his lip, trying not to make any noise as Bruce works his way inside.

"This is why I said you should have picked me," Slade says, sounding far too amused. "Once Bruce gets going, there's no stopping him, and he's not going to stop until you're clenching down on his cock."

Bruce really wishes Slade wouldn't be so... _descriptive,_ but he doesn't comment as he finally slams his hips home.

He's buried so deep that he feels like all he can feel is Will. Will's body clenching down on him. Will's thighs pressing up against his hips.

He lets out a hiss, taking a second to let Will adjust. To let _himself_ adjust, for that matter. Will's vice tight, and if he doesn't relax it's not going to be particularly enjoyable.

"He's tight," Bruce hisses. "Really... really tight."

"Who knew Will would be such a tightass?" Slade says, and Will smacks him on the arm, scowling up at him before twisting his head to look at Bruce.

"So help me, if you don't fuck me already—"

Bruce pulls back and then shoves right back in, all in one smooth movement. Will's threat dies in his throat, and caught with his mouth open he can't stop himself from letting out a high pitched whine.

"Just like that," Slade says. "That'll give him something to focus on..." His hands are dancing down Will's sides, overwhelming him with stimulation as Bruce starts to set a measured pace.

Truth be told, Bruce isn't expecting much from Will. He's expecting him to endure it once (or maybe twice, if he's being particularly generous), and then call it a day. What he's _not_ expecting is the way Will reacts when Bruce finally finds just the right angle to bump his prostate.

"Oh _fuck,"_ Will hisses, his eyes literally rolling back into his head as his whole body arches.

"First time dealing with your prostate?" Slade asks, more chuckle than words. "Color me surprised."

"Fuck you," Will says, but whatever spite he's trying to inject into the words get lost somewhere between Bruce's well-timed thrusts. It's like he's lost control of his body completely, his body twitching and clenching with every single thrust.

"Will," Bruce says, voice breathy. He has so many things he wants to say. Things about how he feels, about how tight Will is and how hot he feels. But other things as well: deeper things. About how happy Bruce is that he's there with them, about how much it matters to him that it's not just the two of them, but that Slade's there as well.

About how happy he is that everything's come together in the end.

He leans forward, his body covering Will's as he rocks into him hard and fast. He tries to find the words. He really does. But right then he doesn't have enough brainpower to do anything other than keep rocking into the heat of Will's body. He can't figure out what to say or how to say it, can't do anything but enjoy the way Will arches under him.

It's Slade who finds the words.

"We love you, Will. We're happy you're here with us."

Bruce kisses Will then because it feels right, and Slade reaches down, turning Will's face the moment Bruce lets up to kiss him as well.

There are tears in Will's eyes as Bruce speeds up, chasing his own end. He reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Will's cock and starting to stroke him in time with the thrusts.

It's, being fair to Will, a little bit too much stimulation too fast. Bruce doesn't _mean_ for things to happen so fast, but Bruce hardly gets three strokes in before Will suddenly clenches down on him, groaning into Slade's mouth as he cums.

The tightness helps take Bruce over the edge, even if it takes a few more thrusts. He buries himself in Will, panting desperately as he cums, the muscles in his legs feeling almost painfully tight. He sags the moment he's finished, burying his face in Will's chest, and lets every clenched muscle he has slowly relax.

For a moment, the only sound is their own heavy breathing.

"I—"

Will's voice cracks, and after a moment it's obvious he simply can't find the words.

"We know," Slade says, leaning down to kiss Will's cheek. "You don't have to say it."

Will's voice _really_ cracks then, and he lets out a single desperate sob as he curls against Slade.

That night is the best rest Bruce has gotten in a long time.


	34. Chapter 34

It feels like it's been a long time coming, but things start to go back to normal.

Thad goes back to school. A few people bother him, but Thad, in Will's words, can take care of himself. It never becomes a big enough problem that any adult has to intervene, and they only end up hearing about it because Thad tells Jon, who tells one of his brothers, and there's not a single Kent who can keep their mouth shut so of course it gets back to Bruce and the others.

The Kandorian's leave in relative silence. It takes days before anyone notices the Kryptonian warship is gone, and by that point people have already moved on to something else.

The family as a whole starts going out in public more. The construction crews return, even if one all but storms out when they see the state of Will's room. Dexter ends up having to be carried around by Will so he doesn't attack the crew working on the bedroom, a state of affairs that the cat seems to find very satisfactory.

Dick comes to visit with Dax, and Bruce feels a swell of pride when he sees how Dick is with the younger man.

"He's a chip off the old block," Alfred says, looking just as proud as Bruce feels.

Joey ends up going to visit Wayne Enterprises later that week, and Lucius is all too happy to show him around. He seems almost desperate to have someone from the family around, and to his intense delight Joey actually knows what he's talking about.

The same day, Jason shows off his costume. It's a lightly modified version of Joey's ikon suit, the aesthetics almost identical, complete with white and black.

"Not going with browns? More blacks?" Slade asks, and Jason pulls down the mask just to roll his eyes.

"I thought I'd stick with the color scheme Joey used," Jason says. "Since he helped... well, inspire me to go back into heroing."

"You can't be raptor looking like that," Damian points out. "You'll need a new name."

"I'm giving it some thought," Jason says, but refuses to get involved when the rest of the family starts throwing around suggestions.

Bruce hears from Director Bones the very next day, and he can't decide if it's a coincidence or not. Bones does seem to know a whole hell of a lot, and he even makes a point of asking about how Jason's doing.

"He's fine," Bruce says. "How are things on your end?"

"I've gotten three senator's arrested. How do you _think_ I'm doing?"

Bruce supposes that really does answer the question.

"I wanted to let you know about the kid. Park?" Bones says.

"Who?"

"Hosun Park?"

Oh. Bruce isn't sure if he knew his last name. If he had, it had completely slipped his mind.

"What about him?"

"Your family seemed to have an interest in him," Bone points out, which is true. "We cut a deal with him, and he's working for the DEO now."

Bruce can only imagine the terms of _that_ agreement, but he makes a note to let Joey and Will know anyway. The rest of the conversation passes without issue: it's largely Bones checking in so that Bruce knows he hasn't been completely forgotten. He also tells Bruce that the amnesty legislation is moving forward, even if it's doing so at a nearly glacial pace.

"There's strong support," Bones says. "You just know how politics works."

On the thirteenth of May, Damian goes for a prosthetic fitting. The same day, Kate calls to confirm her visit - she'll be there at the end of the month, or maybe early June.

"You don't _know?"_ Bruce asks, horrified by her lack of planning.

"Things are up in the air," she insists. "I have a lot going on, Bruce."

Bruce huffs and lets it go.

It's the fourteenth of May when Bruce gets an unexpected (and largely unwelcome) call.

"Mr. Wayne-Wilson?" A crisp but entirely unfamiliar voice says.

"Speaking." He has no idea how the speaker got his number, but finding out how can come after he knows what they want. After all, it's entirely possible they're some new ARGUS contact with the League.

"I'm with Paige and Associates, I believe you spoke to my partner a few weeks ago concerning the estate of Mr. Lex Luthor?"

Crap. The last thing Bruce wants to deal with is _more_ relating to Luthor. He's dead and gone, and yet somehow he's still managing to harass Bruce from beyond the goddamn grave.

"Yes?" Bruce asks, rubbing furiously the bridge of his nose as he tries to stave off the headache he knew was coming the moment Luthor's name was dropped.

"The waiting period has now finished, so we're in the process of handling all related matters. As a named party in Mr. Luthor's estate, we'd request—"

"When?" Bruce asks. He doesn't have the patience for the whole _spiel._

"Tomorrow at ten AM. The invitation also invites one Slade Wilson-Wayne to come along. I assume you know the way to our office?"

Bruce does, but he makes a point of checking in with Clark before he goes _anywhere._ He checks in that night and learns that not only did Clark not get the call (Lois did), but Lois got the call _after_ Bruce did.

"Really?" He asks. "Not Clark, just you?"

"Clark wasn't even _invited._ I had to argue that Clark's as much their parent as I am, and that unless Luthor _explicitly_ said Clark couldn't come, he's coming."

"So he's coming?"

"Of course he's coming, Bruce. I'm not going to just leave him at home."

"Carpool?" Bruce doubts Clark wants to _fly_ in. The less attention they draw, the better.

"Carpool," Lois confirms.

That evening, Bruce invites the Kents over for coffee. Martha and Jonathan decline, but Clark and Lois make the trip between the houses anyway, drawn by the promise of coffee.

Will and Alfred join them, bearing trays of coffee and snacks.

"So what do you think it is?" Clark asks, sipping from his coffee like it's any other night.

"Without question, it's going to be Luthor dangling a bunch of money in front of the boys but adding a bunch of ridiculous clauses on what they can and can't do with the money until you're strongly considering telling himself to go stuff it," Slade says.

"Can he... do that?"

"Of course," Bruce says. "There have been all kinds of legal examples. It's only invalid if it's considered unlawful, so if Luthor wants to set a condition that none of the money can ever go to you or Lois, he technically can. He'd have to set up a trust to do so, but... well, Luthor could afford to set something like that up."

It's not like it's a high bar for him by any metric.

"So that's us," Lois says. "What about the two of you? He invited Slade as well, right?"

"Probably invited the two of you to brag," Will says with a snort. "In Luthor's mind, there's no _way_ his plan could possibly fail, which means if his estate is getting dealt with it means you failed. So my bet, if we're betting, is that he's calling you in just to brag."

"That seems.... petty, even for him," Bruce says, and Will raises a single eyebrow in silent disbelief.

"...Fair," he mutters under his breath.

Alfred suspects that part of Luthor's estate has been set aside for Bruce to develop anti-Kryptonian defenses. Will thinks he's just bringing them in to taunt. Lois, on the other hand, is more wary.

"He's up to something," she says. "Luthor always has one more trick up his sleeve."

Bruce knows she's right and wishes desperately that she wasn't.


	35. Chapter 35

Bruce drives, with Slade in the passenger seat and Clark and Lois just behind. It's an easy drive into Metropolis, the traffic light for a Friday, and as uncomfortable as Clark looks in a suit, Bruce is the opposite: being in a suit, going to a meeting with high powered lawyers is perfectly within his comfort zone, and he has his own lawyers on speed dial and standing by if he needs them to pick a fight for him.

They're lead straight inside by a clerk who makes the very smart decision not to let two members of the Justice League and their spouses be seen in the lobby, so they end up sitting in a large conference room at a long table, waiting for everyone to arrive.

The person handling things turns out not to be the same man they met before. Instead, they're met by a much younger man, his black hair in a rather dramatic bang that falls over one eye. It's very stylish, and he looks like he can't be long out of law school.

Bruce makes a guess.

"Mr. Paige?" Paige would be the person in charge of everything, and the fact that they've _apparently_ given such a high profile matter to someone so young strikes Bruce as deeply odd and out of place. It feels like a test: Luthor always did like young up and comers.

"Victor Paige," he confirms. "The firm is mine. Mr. Luthor was an ardent supporter of mine, so I'll be handling his final affairs."

Bruce already doesn't like the man, but he shakes his hand anyway because it's expected. Clark and Lois are obviously content to let Bruce do the talking, and he's genuinely happy for that, considering the alternative.

"Is it just the four of us?"

"Technically just the three," Paige says. "Mr. Kent was invited only as a courtesy to Ms. Lane. He's not a party to Mr. Luthor's estate."

Bruce notes that it's not explicitly said he isn't included _in the will._ He probably is, if only to exclude him.

"A portion of Mr. Luthor's funds have been set aside to ensure that LexCorp continues to run as normal, and to ensure it's continued success. The majority portion of what remains has been placed into a trust which will be divided equally among all his heirs."

 _That_ comes as a surprise to Bruce, and he expresses as much.

"There's no clarification on heirs getting different amounts?"

"No," Paige says flatly. "Considering that, as far as I'm aware, he has five identical clones, I'm not sure why there would be an uneven distribution."

Maybe, just for a second, Bruce wonders if maybe Luthor wasn't _completely_ awful. Unless Paige is lying through his teeth, that means even if Luthor had managed to revive himself he'd still have given part of his money to Clark's boys.

Or maybe he's being too generous, and Luthor simply couldn't find a way to write _I gift everything I have to the clone that's 100% of my DNA rather than the ones that are only 50%_ without it looking mind-bendingly suspicious.

"I have also been instructed to play a recording provided by Mr. Luthor," Paige says. Lois mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _here comes the gloating,_ and Paige pulls down a projector, setting things up as everyone settles in. Bruce is expecting gloating. The question is what _else_ is going to come along with it.

Unsurprisingly, the video is of Luthor. He looks exactly as he did in life, and Bruce would put money that the video was recorded shortly after his escape from prison. The background is a generic white, meaning identifying the filming location is impossible, but Bruce guesses it probably isn't going to matter anyway.

"If you're seeing this video," Luthor begins, "then my plan has failed. Such a thing was always a possibility, although obviously a great disappointment. I had higher hopes for your skills."

Bruce rolls his eyes, and he's not the only one.

"Even so, I will assume a baseline level of competency. I'll assume you already spoke to my AI duplicate, but were unable to restore me to physical form. Just as well: the state of the world is grim as it stands, and perhaps leaving it there is better."

It sounds a great deal like Luthor's going out of his way to justify such a stupid plan to himself, but Bruce supposes he has very little other choice. By the time Luthor recorded the video, his options were limited, and life in prison wasn't something he'd ever genuinely consider.

"My doppelganger should have offered you an incentive to complete your task. He likely even hinted as to what it was, because someone modeled after myself couldn't resist a tease. Even so, I must admit that i never planned to keep your prize from you. I put too much effort into arranging things for it to go to waste, so if Mr. Paige would have the package brought in..."

Paige pauses the video, clears his throat, and goes to fetch someone else. To Bruce's alarm, _the package_ turns out to be quite a bit larger than Bruce expected. It's a metal crate that goes up past Bruce's waist, large enough for a fully grown man to sit in and still have space to move around. It's absolutely _gigantic,_ and the first thing Bruce does is look to Clark.

"The outer shell has a thin layer of lead," he says. "I've got no idea what's inside."

"Should we even be opening it?" Lois asks. "It could be dangerous."

Paige ignores them, leaving the cart with the crate on it sitting just beside the screen as he resumes the video.

"Hopefully Paige or his men have brought the package in, or the rest of this video is going to look very stupid," Luthor continues. "I hope you'll appreciate the effort I put into things. It was quite difficult to arrange this, especially since Sionis turned out to be so incompetent."

Sionis? Bruce doesn't even have time to process what the hell _that_ means, because Luthor's already moving on.

"So if one of you will go ahead and open the box, please enjoy your gift, even if you failed to actually do what was necessary to _earn_ it."

With a tone like an irritated school teacher, Luthor signs off and leaves them to the package.

"Maybe we shouldn't open it at all," Clark says, staring at it warily.

Bruce genuinely considers the option. Not opening it _would_ be a final fuck-you to Luthor, but curiosity is already getting the best of him.

"We'd always wonder," Bruce says. "We also need to know what it is so that if it _is_ something bad, we can dispose of it."

Bruce is betting on weapon. A weapon would fit his mental image of Luthor, who could very easily see providing something that could be used to kill Clark as a _public service._ Something to be thanked for.

But that doesn't explain what Roman Sionis had to do with things. Maybe he acquired it? Only Luthor seems to have been referring to his attempted kidnapping of Will more than anything else...

"I'm opening it," Clark says. "If anything happens, I'm the most resistant."

"Unless that's what he wants," Lois says.

"Clark wasn't even supposed to be here," Slade points out. "Most likely Luthor expected Bruce or I to open it."

Unless excluding Clark was the plan, and he knew that excluding him would make them think that... it's a constant spiral of confusion, and after a moment Bruce pushes the thought away. He can't let himself think like that. Luthor's smart, but that kind of recursive thinking never helped anyone.

And more importantly, Luthor would have assumed they were idiots and treated them as such.

Clark steps forward, reaching down to pull the latch of the case, and immediately afterwards everything goes to hell. The moment the latch is undone, the top of the case swings open like it's under pressure, causing Clark to jerk back. Even then, it's just the start: the entire thing starts _hissing,_ and not even a full second later fluid starts to pour off the sides of the case. Clark jerks back, murmuring a very un-Clark-like word just as the smell hits them.

The smell is rank. It smells so sickly sweet that Bruce's eyes water at the sheer intensity of it, and there's the same viscous fluid running over his shoes even as they all furiously back up. The crate's still dumping fluid like it's been full to the bursting for _weeks,_ and considering the timeline Bruce is aware of that's probably what's happened. The smell is getting less intense as the worst of it airs out, but it's still enough to make him gag as Clark hesitantly approaches the crate.

"That's cloning fluid," Clark mutters. "It's the same smell as the boys..."

Clark is proven right (or at least _mostly_ right) by a sudden ear-splitting _wail._

It knocks things into motion out of pure instinct. Clark steps forward, bending down to scoop a small, crying child from the crate, cradling them in his arms. The calm doesn't even have a chance though, because he only looks more panicked as he stares at the crate. Lois is there in a moment, bending down to scoop up a second, and then to Bruce's increasingly growing horror, a third.

 _Babies._

Babies pulled from a glorified shipping crate.

The one Clark has won't stop wailing, but it looks like a normal enough newborn, the dusting of hair looking somewhere between red and blond. The ones in Lois's arms, on the other hand, are most definitely not. The one is a bit undersized, but the other is _tiny,_ a fragile little thing that seems too small to even be real.

"Bruce!" Lois calls, and Bruce snaps out of his distraction, stepping forward to offer a hand. "Hold your kid."

Bruce's brain stops operating, but his body works on autopilot, taking the larger baby into his arms as Lois focuses on the smaller one. His head tilts down, staring at the tiny baby in his arms, and tries to process what just happened.

_His kid?_

Poor Paige is white as a sheet, staring at the mess of the conference room and the children who were just, for lack of a better term, born there. Bruce can imagine what he's thinking: that he could potentially be charged with all sorts of nasty things, considering he was holding onto _human children_ for Luthor.

Bruce doesn't care, really. He's having a hard time focusing on anything past the baby in his arms. They look half asleep, eyes still closed, but the sprinkle of hair they've already got looks black and maybe even curly.

Bruce suspects he's in serious danger of bursting into tears when Slade steps over, carefully taking the baby from Bruce and wrapping his suit jacket around them before carefully returning them to Bruce's arms.

There's a second ear-splitting wail, and Bruce looks up to find that Lois has got the smallest of the three resting over her shoulder. They're so small, but they're making such a _racket,_ and Bruce can only manage a small, confused noise as he stares at them.

Nothing that's happening feels real. There's a baby in his arms and a baby in Clark's arms and one over Lois's shoulder, and Slade seems to have produced a towel from thin air that he's already helping Clark wrap the one.

"What?" Bruce makes himself say, because that's all the brainpower he has right then.

"They need to go to the hospital," Lois says matter of factly. "Luthor's ego wouldn't stand to make mistakes, but they need to be checked out anyway. They're— I'm not sure there's supposed to be three."

"What?" Bruce says. He feels like he's been kicked in the gut. "What do you mean, _there's not supposed to be three?"_

"There's two nameplates," Slade says. He looks oddly shaken, like he too is operating purely on autopilot. "Luthor and Wayne-Wilson."

"Please take care of him," Bruce mumbles, head tilting down to stare at the baby in his arms.

They're so small and fragile, and Bruce feels so _not._ Like he's not even qualified to hold them in his arms.

"The hospital," Clark reminds Bruce, and Bruce makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He can't figure out what his emotions are doing right then, but when Lois finally hands the smallest off to Slade he knows that whatever is going to happen, he'll be happy no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, new part... tonight? Tomorrow? I'm going to be soliciting some feedback as to the POV character / direction of the next part over on discord, so [check that out](https://discord.gg/kYvx6cd)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Best of Three](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29520582) by [OkayAristotle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkayAristotle/pseuds/OkayAristotle)




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